Scaretalia
by The Xs and the Os
Summary: A mysterious letter is sent to our seven nations - a letter from Russia, strangely requesting them to arrive at his sudden party. With suspicions rising, the nations reluctantly agree to go. However, what dangers await them upon arrival, and how long will they last? Rated T: certain language, suggestive themes, mild/moderate violence
1. Prologue

**A/N: **_I recently had a Hetalia Marathon. If I didn't write something about Hetalia, then how could I deserve to be devoted enough to actually have started re-watching it already? First of all, I want to say a massive thanks to Hidekaz Himaruya for writing Hetalia, and secondly, I hope you enjoy this piece of fanfiction._

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_Dear Nations,_

_First of all, I am writing this letter only out of the pure goodness of my heart. Secondly, the point I would like to make is that I'm having a party this weekend and am exclusively inviting you alongside some others. It's just for fun, and I have a lot of fun activities planned for fun entertainment of my guests. I'm writing fun too much but I'm actually quite nervous writing to you, as you might already imagine… It would be better if you didn't decline, and I advise you to accept, otherwise I will find you and request the reason you couldn't come to my party._

_It's later today – after lunch._

_Don't condemn me,_

_Russia_

_(^J^)_

England laid the letter in front of him and pondered the strange circumstance as well as the mood swing halfway through the letter. He was sitting in his lounge, with tea and afternoon scones, peacefully enjoying the solitude that could never be present with either America or France within speaking distance. He drummed his fingers on the table and checked the letter once again, just to make sure he was seeing things clearly. It really was Russia (unless someone else had written the letter, for which case, England had no idea what Russia's handwriting was like).

Just that moment, the phone started ringing. He stood and answered it wearily, wondering if it was Russia checking to ensure he'd received the letter.

"Hello?"

"Hey, England," America boomed down the line. He held the phone at arm's length for a moment whilst his English speaking ally rattled on for a moment, laughing and speaking at unnecessarily high decibels down the phone.

"Are you done?" he checked.

America laughed and he winced. "Such a gloomy sense of humour! Anyway, I actually wanted to check if you got invited to Russia's exclusive party."

"Yes I did, but why do you sound happy?" England frowned. "Is it some sort of trick you've set up?"

"No, I got one as well…"

"What?" for a moment, he wasn't sure if he'd heard him correctly. "_You _got a letter to _Russia's_ party?"

"Hey, don't sound so surprised that I get invited to cool things, too," America said from down the line. "It's an _exclusive_ party. That means-"

"I know what _exclusive _means, and I'm surprised he invited you, not because you're undeserving of it (although maybe you are) but because I could've sworn the pair of you _despise each other_."

England waited a moment as a silence ensued from the other end of the line. He wondered briefly if the wanker down the other end had gotten distracted and left whilst he had been in mid-sentence. He even contemplated hanging up there and then, but a sudden intake of breath on the other side reassured him that America was still there, and had been there the entire time.

"You're right!" he exclaimed. "I bet this is a trick. I bet he's planning on killing everyone he invites. Or maybe he was trying to lure me in!"

"Why would he invite me, then?" England sighed impatiently.

"Because…" America, for once, seemed to be at a loss for words.

"Hello?" England checked when he stopped talking.

"Are you going to go?" he stressed. "I'm not sure I want to go now. What if he really wants to kill us? I think, if we do go, we should consider some kind of military defence as a backup."

"If we bring anything that suggests violence we won't be allowed into the country."

"We need to think of _something_," America pleaded. "I can't think of anything beyond guns and missiles, but maybe you had something better in mind."

"I'm thinking we should check who else received the letters," England concluded. "I doubt it's just us, but you never really know."

"You can call France, then," America shouted down the line. "I'll start with China."

Before England could reply, the American had long hung up. He stood beside his old fashioned phone, its curling wire held in one hand, idly twisted around his fingers. He scowled and slammed down the phone, tapping his chin. He didn't really want to call France, but he knew America wouldn't, and being left out might persuade France to actually come and visit him, which was something he'd rather not happen. He groaned and lifted the phone off the hook once more, dialling in a certain number. His fingers were slow and cold, hesitant to be any more involved than necessary with France. He needed to tell himself that it was important, and that it could be possible that Russia had singled out both he and America for some bizarre reason he couldn't explain.

He dialled the number and waited like an anxious schoolgirl waiting for her crush to pick up the phone, although this situation was completely different, what with there being no romantic inclinations.

"Salut!" someone chimed from the other end, a thick French accent with a curl to his words.

"Hello, France," England said wearily. "I need to talk to you."

"Talk to me?" he sounded surprised. "What, in person? Or a private, yet intimate call over the phone here and now…? I've never practiced this kind of phone call, but if you've suddenly decided to take our relationship down this road, I'm not one to-"

"No, France," England huffed, flustered. _No romantic inclinations_. "I wanted to know if you've been invited to any recent parties…?"

"I'm invited to a lot of parties," he replied vaguely.

England ground his teeth in silent frustration. "Are any of them Russia's party?"

"They might be."

"Just give me a straight answer, man, this is _important_," he outburst and then rubbed his temples with his fingers, kneading his head in his frustration.

"OK, OK, yes, I was invited to Russia's party – or something," France replied. "I don't think I'm going to go, even if the end veers towards a more threatening tone…"

"You're not even curious as to what he wants?" England was surprised – usually France was involved with a myriad of strange occurrences.

"Maybe a little, but I'm not sure it's worth it," France admitted. "Everyone seems to forget that Russia has a really dangerous side to him… Besides, it's nearly Hallowe'en, and I'm taking this sudden need to throw a party has something to do with that. I'm personally taking it as a bad omen. I'm surprised you're _not_."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he glared at the phone.

"What I mean is, I thought you had a love for all the supernatural things?" France replied. "Anyway, I assume you've been invited, since you know about it. Do you know anyone else who may have been?"

"America has, and he's checking with China," England explained.

"_What_?" France's voice was rough with genuine surprise.

"I know – that's why we're so worried about this whole thing," he continued. "I thought Russia _hated _America, and vice versa. Correct me if I'm mistaken…"

"You are not," France muttered. "Perhaps I may come, then. This change of circumstance has interested me, and it's always nice to know when you have more allies to outnumber your enemies."

"I've got an idea," England said. "How about everyone we discover is attending come to my place and we all discuss tactics?"

"A meeting place! _Excellent_!" France sounded too happy – England regretted that decision.

"If you call Italy next, I'll call Japan, and I can get America to deal with Germany and tell China to come here," England said.

"What about all the other places?" France asked.

"Something tells me that we won't have to go beyond the names we've already mentioned…" England sighed. "I don't know what it is, but there's something about the eight of us that seems to just… I don't know… stand out? Yes, stand out."

"I'm not sure I get what you mean," France sounded sombre.

"Never mind, then," England shook his head. "I'll just get around to what I was meant to do, and you do your part. Sooner or later, we'll be able to see what everyone else thinks about this situation."

"Sooner or later" arrived. Without consulting him, it seemed America had already decided that, if a meeting was to be held (which, in his opinion, it _definitely _had to be), it would be held at England's home. Upon hearing that everything would be his responsibility, England had ensured his guests would arrive to a hot cup of tea and scones supplied with fluffy white cream and succulent raspberry jam, their own little plates framed with flower decorations and a knife to spread their scones with the sweetness he had on offer.

The first to arrive was, naturally, France, who had been all too eager to come to England's house – perhaps much too eager for England's liking. However, throughout the duration of time it took for everyone to arrive (America being the last one), France hadn't dared touch the scones he'd prepared, and neither had the others.

"Hey, everybody!" America shouted as he entered the lounge. "Where's Italy?"

"Bathroom," Germany muttered.

"He's been there a while," Japan added. "As in, the entire time."

"How come you're the _last one here_?" England demanded, sending a cold glare in America's direction.

"It's called being fashionably late," he saluted in reply. "But now's the time for the meeting to commence, rather than talking about my arrival habits."

"Where are you hiding them?" England asked, grinding his teeth.

"H-hiding?" America appeared uneasy. "I can't say I know what you're talking about…"

"Oh, you know," England pressed. "The grenades. The guns. The missiles. Anything. Where are they?"

"I haven't got anything like that," America protested in horror.

"How about you allow to me take and hang up your jacket, then?" England sneered.

"My jacket?" America laughed loudly. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because…"

"There's a grenade in your pocket?"

"What? No…"

"I know you hate Russia. Let me hang up your coat."

"You're getting this all wrong."

"I insist. What kind of host would I be if I didn't hang up your coat?"

"Fine," America snapped, whipping a weapon from his pocket – a grenade. "I had to! Russia can't be trusted. He's rounding us all up so he can slaughter us one by one in his own home!"

"Is America scared, by any chance?" France teased.

"Heck no!" America protested, setting the grenade aside on a table. "I just don't think we should act brashly."

"So you wanted to bring a grenade?" England stated sceptically, eyeing the weapon of mass destruction carefully as it sat still on his fireplace.

"That's not brash," America shrugged nonchalantly. "That's pragmatism. Aren't you always one to support arriving prepared?"

"Arriving prepared and carrying threatening weapons around with you are two completely different things," England snapped. "I told you that if you did so much as bring a safety pin into Russia's house he will accuse you of attempting to kill him."

"A safety pin? Really?" China gave England a bored glance.

"Are we talking about Russia's letter?" Italy beamed, walking into the room. "I actually wrote back. I didn't realise you'd all be going as well!"

"Wait, wait, wait," England looked alarmed at Italy, standing in the doorway with his usual dumb expression and spaced out stance. "You replied? What did you say?"

"Well, something along the lines of 'I would be really happy to go to your party, Russia' and then I did what he did and signed off with a little smiley face," Italy explained. "I was hardly going to say no. If I declined, then that would give Russia the excuse to come find me and probably scare me like he usually does."

"Did you not even think about what you could be signing into?" Germany slapped a palm of disdain against his own forehead.

"I feel as if we shouldn't let Italy go alone," France glanced at Italy.

"Did none of you reply?" Italy's smile vanished.

"It wasn't compulsory to reply," England folded his arms. "The letter implies that it was compulsory to attend. I personally think we should go, just to avoid conflict. I understand that actually going into enemy grounds is risky as it is, but I think we would only be causing unnecessary grief if all of us, save Italy, didn't turn up. He's holding this party for a reason, without a doubt, but I think the only way we'll really be able to find out what's happening is if we attend and see for ourselves."

"Strength in numbers, they say!" Italy chimed from the doorway.

"Always full of magnificent ideas," France chuckled from the couch. "Well, if England is going, I most certainly am."

"I have no choice," Germany sighed. "If I leave Italy alone, he will either offend Russia by running out screaming, or he'll do something incomprehensibly stupid, such as sending the letter _before_ checking with the rest of us…"

"I may as well, if Italy and Germany are," Japan pondered.

"I have a question," China scowled, raising his hand.

"Go on," England frowned.

"What are my chances of being kidnapped, tortured, killed, held hostage, assaulted, harassed, humiliated, imprisoned or forced into slavery?" he fired.

"Um… I can't say I-"

"63%!" America roared. "But if you escape unscathed, you'll be honoured as a hero!"

"Is there a monetary benefit?" China asked England.

"Um… well, if it's a party, I suppose there's free food?" he shrugged.

"Free food or death? The choice seems a little obvious…" China puffed out his cheeks.

"Think of it as this – if the rest of us go and are horribly murdered by Russia in his hovel, you'll be the only one who didn't go to his party," America smiled triumphantly. "If Italy's fears are correct, he'll come after you and there won't be anyone left to support you. Therefore, if Russia takes you down, then the world is at his-"

"Stop! Stop!" China waved his hands. "I don't want to hear anymore. Fine. I'll accept with the benefit of free food, but I expect some sort of further reward if we make it out of there alive."

"It's a deal," America shot him thumbs up.

"When is this party?" Germany asked.

"We're supposed to be there after lunch, or 'later today', as he's said," England explained, referring to the letter. "I guess that means something along the lines of this afternoon, which ranges between two to five."

"I say arrive at three thirty," Japan said. "It's a good middle."

"What time is it now?" Italy asked.

"Three thirty," England said, checking the clock ticking steadily on the wall.

"Alright; let's go," America roared, charging towards the door with renewed energy.

"America!" England called after him, folding his arms.

"Yes?" America peered hesitantly back into the room.

"Leave the bloody grenade."

"Fine," he groaned, leaving the weapon back on England's mantelpiece, where it belonged. "But don't blame me if we arrive and he has the place decked with machine guns."

"If he does that, we don't go inside," Germany said, practically.

England headed towards the front door, making sure he was the last out just as a backup to ensure America didn't try to sneak the grenade out with him. He sighed as he viewed his beloved house.

_I wonder why nobody touched the scones I prepared_, he wondered, as he closed the door and followed after everyone else to what had to be the most dreaded party he'd ever attended…

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**A.N: **_My first Hetalia fanfiction. I really like all the Hetalia characters. I just find them all so fun to write about... I hope you liked the Prologue and I can guarantee you that there will be more. I'm not predictable when it comes to posting, but I'll honestly try my best._


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_Here's the next chapter of Scaretalia. *evil laughter* I honestly think I'm just posting these whenever I feel like it! *more evil laughter* Be prepared for what's coming up!_

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England always forgot how temperatures in Russia were generally below freezing and good cause for miserable attitudes. If you could complain about English weather, Russian weather had to be a topic for the apocalypse.

The first issue was landing one's plane. There was so much snow that there appeared to be no actual place to physically land. He ended up following Germany, who managed to steer towards drier areas that were covered dangerously in ice.

The second issue was definitely the freezing temperature. When one did the best thing within their power to avoid another person – as England did with Russia – it was easy to forget what it was like to be with them or the area they lived in. As soon as he stepped beyond the warm protection of his plane, he was blasted with the freezing tendrils of cold air that wrapped their icy fingers around him, sinking into his skin, his hair and in between the layers of his clothes. He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling the blood rise to his cheeks and seeing the cloud of warm air that puffed before him every time he exhaled. Not far from where he stood, he saw Italy tumble out of Germany's plane, looking aghast.

"It's freezing here!" he exclaimed, rubbing his shoulders with his teeth chattering.

"I knew it!" America whispered hoarsely as he approached. "He's gonna freeze us to death!"

"Who is?" someone said warmly from behind them.

"Oh, you know-" America began and then stopped dead halfway through his words, eyes widening as he stared briefly into space.

The pair of them turned around with fake plastered smiles and saw Russia beaming at them. He probably didn't feel the cold in the slightest. England would do almost (yes, _almost_) anything to have a thick winter coat just like his, as well as the thick muffler around his face and neck accompanied with gloves that appeared unaffected in the slightest by the snow. He even wore boots that looked impenetrable by the snow.

"Jack Frost," America said emphatically. "That guy… He's really… really… um…"

Russia tilted his head, still smiling, his eyes closed in that over-friendly "I actually despise the ground you're walking on but I pretend to be nice because I enjoy seeing your discomfort" way.

"Cold," America finished flatly, and an awkward silence ensued (save the high pitched complaints from Italy in the background).

England dared to glance at America, just to see what he was doing, but the other had his eyes completely trained on Russia, who stood completely still, just smiling.

"Good," Russia finally said, just as England was about to start talking about the weather. "For a moment, I thought you meant me."

"_What_?" America laughed loudly and the vast landscape sorrowfully absorbed the sounds, his laughter having the slightest of echoes. "I would _never _insult someone inside their own home."

"You would insult them outside, though, da?" Russia nodded.

"Err… no… I mean…"

"I was only kidding," Russia chuckled and looked past them. "Hello, Germany and Italy."

"Hello," Germany said bluntly, trudging through the snow. Colour had risen to his cheeks, but he showed no indication of being affected, whereas Italy, trailing miserably behind him, was shaking like a leaf, although that could've been for fear of Russia.

"Welcome," Russia said politely as Japan and China neared. "Where is France?"

Blankly they all looked around. There was no sign of the Frenchman, although England was sure he'd seen his plane on the way there… However, there was no mysteriously irritating laughter echoing around the empty wasteland, and there was no ridiculously blatant blue cloak in sight.

"I could've sworn…" America frowned, looking around and squinting through the cold.

"Maybe he changed his mind," Italy shivered. "Maybe he knew how cold it was and decided he'd rather not freeze his-"

"It's not that cold," Russia laughed. "Maybe he crashed his plane."

All heads jerked towards his direction, but he had already raised his head to the sky to point upwards to a plane circling in the air, attempting to find a place to land. They watched as it awkwardly made its way in a distant area, landing behind and beyond what looked like a thick, dense forest.

"He'll be a while," Russia commented, still smiling. "I think I'll send Lithuania to bring him indoors. In the meantime, we should go indoors. Fortunately, I've had plenty of time to wait for your arrival, and I already have everything ready."

"Can I just ask what this party is in aid for?" China asked. "It just seems so sudden…"

Russia stopped in his tracks, Italy walking into him and turned to the group of them. "Did someone say anything?"

Although there wasn't a direct threat, an eerie silence followed suit, and China didn't press the matter further. They were buffeted by cruel winds along the way. Halfway across, England stopped feeling his toes, which worried him, but he was reluctant to express disdain of any kind. Finally, they reached Russia's house, a fortress surrounded by a vast world of snow and dense forest in the distance. England had to marvel at the fact that he had never actually been here before.

He noticed Russia's strange behaviour once they arrived. As they neared, he saw him glancing from side to side, as if expecting something, but when he followed his gaze, there was nothing to be seen. Also, just as they reached the front door, he displayed the slightest of hesitations before pushing the door open, his movements terse, but then he flung the door open after a moment's silence.

Russia's house was surprisingly warm. It had the same cosiness that England would expect when he returned to his own home after a rainy winter's day spent in the cold, and then to enjoy a warm cup of tea and some afternoon cakes, perhaps even a hot shower or bath to soak in to wash away the cold. They all wandered inside, glancing at the walls, the ceiling, the floor, as if expecting them to be lined with blades, shotguns, weapons of mass torture, spears, or even the bloodied heads of Russia's previous victims. It was actually a beautiful, well-kept house. The curtains were drawn across the windows, but England was sure they were floor to ceiling. He didn't want to marvel at Russia's house, so instead he admired it silently. It seemed everybody had the same opinion, because they were all looking around in astonished wonder, but no one said a thing.

"Hello, Mr Russia," three voices chimed and everyone turned their heads towards Lithuania, Estonia and Latvia, standing in a line, their hands behind their backs, quaking with fear at the very sight of Russia.

"Oh, hello," he said pleasantly. "Lithuania, France is still outside. Perhaps you should go find him? He should be just beyond the forest."

"The f-forest?" Lithuania's eyes bugged out. "O-of course. Yes. I'll find him."

He hurried off, without waiting for another word to be said, the door closing right at his heels. The door closing, for some reason, felt like the barred gate of a prison cell sliding shut. Italy was eyeing the door up, half hiding behind Germany, still shaking in his boots.

"Estonia, makes us all drinks," Russia ordered. "I'll be having tea. What do our guests want?"

He glanced over his shoulder at everyone.

"I'll have the same as you," Italy blurted out.

"We'll all have tea," Germany added, gesturing to the entire party.

"Do you have coffee?" America challenged, folding his arms and scrutinising Russia.

"Nope!" Russia laughed. "Tough luck! Looks like we're _all _having tea."

Estonia scurried off with a nod of terror, disappearing into the depths of the house. The last to stand there was Latvia, his brow furrowed.

"What am I meant to do?" he pointed to himself.

Russia looked at him with a straight face. "Check the food."

"O-of course," Latvia frowned, and hurried off in the same direction as Estonia.

"Follow me," Russia gestured, and they made a silent procession through the house.

The blizzard outside looked lethal, and England could only feel grateful that it wasn't him outside there. The way they walked hollowly down the hallways made England feel like he was participating in a funeral walk. America opened his mouth to say something, but England nudged him, assuming it was something Russia wouldn't want to hear. They were brought to a lounge that looked like your ordinary, everyday lounge. Once more, there were no lethal weapons within sight, and if this had been England's house, he should've enjoyed dusky afternoons sitting on the sofa, an alcoholic beverage within reaching distance and a newspaper, as well as the view just a glance away. If there was one thing England had to credit, it was that the treeline in the distance with the slowly lowering sun would probably look fantastic during sunrise and sunset.

"I would just like to say thank you for all coming to my party," Russia said, once again smiling. "I hope France makes it; although I'm sure he will; but right now I have to go and get something. This room will be where we'll be staying for the duration of the party. Did I mention you were all staying over?"

"Wh-what?" Italy's head jerked to look at Russia, standing in the doorway, about to leave. "Overnight?"

"Yeah – did I forget to say?" he tapped his head and chuckled. "Silly me! I'll make sure you're provided for. Although stay in this room da."

He left the room abruptly, swinging the door shut behind him. There was a long pause, Germany holding his hand up, blue eyes trained on the doorway as they listened to Russia's receding footsteps. He lowered his hand and looked about the room.

"I have no idea what we've gotten ourselves into," he declared in a rough whisper. "I can't tell if he's up to something, but he's adamant to keep us in _this _room."

"He can't be trusted," America loudly hissed. "He probably wants to lock us up in here and hold us ransom. Or worse – kill us. I bet he sent Lithuania out there to silence France!"

"That's ridiculous," England rolled his eyes. "Lithuania probably wouldn't do that anyway. Think about it."

"I don't like this," Italy shook. "What if I never see my home again? When will I see a pretty girl again?"

"Shut up, Italy," Germany snapped. "That's not what's important right now…"

"I bet he's hiding weapons of mass destruction in this house," America stated boldly. "I bet that's what he's getting."

"That's stupid," China folded his arms. "Otherwise why would he make us drinks? Anyone else notice how tense he is?"

"Yes, actually," England added. "He was."

"I bet it was-"

"Quiet," Japan whispered, and America frowned.

They all inclined their ears and heard footsteps, accompanied by a strange rattling noise. Italy swallowed and once more hid behind Germany, a white flag somehow in his hands. They all stood, crowded in the middle of the room, watching as the door slowly opened and Estonia elbowed his way in. He stared at them, staring at him, and swallowed nervously. In his hands he held a tray balanced with cups and a large boiled kettle. The tray rattled as he moved, the cups wobbling on their spot. He carefully laid the tray on the coffee table and poured already brewed tea into their cups.

The silence seemed to be wearing down on the poor nation. England knew he had to say something.

"Hey, Estonia," America beamed. "How's your blog going?"

Estonia turned towards the loud mouthed fool, but looked relieved at the sound of him. "Very well, thank you. I've had no more hackings."

"That's great," America grinned, flashing his teeth and offering the thumbs up. "Thanks for the tea!"

"No problem," a more relaxed Estonia said, gratefully leaving the room once more.

He left the door open. They all watched, and then huddled back into the middle of the room.

"It's OK," America whispered. "I managed to smuggle a gun in."

There was a horrible silence as they all stared at him, whilst he smiled to himself proudly.

"You idiot," Germany looked horrified. "What the hell were you thinking when you did that?"

"Um, hello? Dude? We're in danger here, and I seem to be the only one who sees that."

"Oh, I see it, too," Italy nodded, terrified.

"What are you going to do, shoot him?" China folded his arms. "In his own home? I don't think so. And anyway, I've heard of Russians who can take several bullets before they hit the ground – and I'm talking bullets to head!"

Here, China is talking about Rasputin, who was murdered by conspirators who believed he was the cause of WW1. He was invited to a party, where he became drunk off of wine supposedly laced with a large amount of cyanide. Afterwards, he was shot, and deemed dead. However, he awoke, and actually ran upstairs. His murderers followed him, and shot him once more. Both shots were fatal, but he still managed to reach the gate outside.

"Wow," America suddenly seemed hesitant.

"Let's not worry about that right now," Germany sighed. "If Russia finds out America has a gun that will be bad. For now, he doesn't even have to know."

"True," Japan nodded. "Although it was pretty stupid to bring it in the first place."

"Aww, c'mon dudes," America frowned. "I was just being cautious about-"

He cut himself off as someone staggered into the room, violently shaking. It was France, his face reddened from the cold, with a panicked Lithuania not far behind.

"My," France exclaimed. "That was awful! I thought I would never make it!"

He flopped dramatically down on the couch, and lifted a warm tea to his lips, closing his eyes and seemingly indulging himself on the rich warm liquid.

"Magnafique!" he sighed, sinking downwards.

"Glad you think so!" Russia beamed, walking into the room, holding a box without a label, its ornately carved surface giving no indication as to what was inside. "Goodbye Lithuania."

"Oh, of course Master Russia," Lithuania seemed eager to leave.

"Unless you want to play?"

"We're playing a game?" the life was suddenly revived in Italy, who had been unusually quiet. "I love games! What game are we playing?"

Russia smiled warmly. "I'm glad to hear that."

He sat down, and for some reason, they all followed, seating themselves in a circle. Lithuania hesitated, but sat with the rest of them when he received a glance from Russia. They watched, tense as he opened the box.

"This is always a fun game to play," Russia explained, rummaging through the box, with strange clinking sounds. "I've always been especially good at it – although sometimes you have to be!"

"What is it? What is it?" Italy couldn't stop fidgeting excitedly.

Russia lifted a gun and loaded it with bullets. "Russian roulette."

* * *

**A/N: **_That escalated quickly! Hopefully the game won't end too badly..._


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_Hi, all. I'm back (at last) with the next chapter of Scaretalia. Hope you enjoy it more than the other nations will enjoy their game of Russian roulette!_

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France started sputtering the tea he had been drinking, choking on the mouthful he had swallowed and Lithuania paled, turning as white as a sheet. Russia's serene expression and vacant smile indicated he was far from joking.

Italy jumped to his feet. "Well, this has been a party, and I just remembered I promised Romano I'd help him with dinner tonight! Oops! Guess I can't stay!"

He charged towards the door and his fingers closed around the handle.

"But I thought you were so enthusiastic?" Russia turned in his sitting position and met Italy's gaze with a hollow stare and stretched smile. "I hope it's not _too_ cold outside…"

Italy was rooted to the spot. His instincts were, for once, telling him to remain closer to the danger rather than flee from it. Possibly because he had knowledge of the terrible storm rising outside; the slight moans of an outside breeze indicated the wind speeds had rapidly increased. There was a big chance the weather would prevent him from flying away anyway, and once he left, he had a feeling Russia wouldn't let him back in. Italy turned on his heel with a grimace.

"Romano might be fine – I am, um… enthusiastic," he said and seated himself once more, although his tense position was enough to tell everyone else in the circle he remained terrified.

"Now, Russia, I want you to put the gun down," America warned.

"Put the gun away?" Russia appeared confused. "We haven't even started the game? Not _all _clips contain bullets. Want to go first?"

America stood and reached for his jacket pocket, where all but Lithuania and Russia were aware the gun remained. Germany tensed, and England threw himself at America, the pair of them crashing down in a heap, pinning America's arms away from where the gun rested. A moment's silence ensued as England wondered if that was best way he could've handled the situation, but then went on to deliberate if it had been the _only _way to solve it. Germany was right. The instant Russia saw America's gun, it was over.

Russia coughed. "If you were eager to go first you could've said… but you realise this is all just a joke, da? We're not actually going to use a gun…"

England leant away from America. "We're not going to use the gun?"

Russia pursed his lips. "Um, no. Otherwise someone might actually put a bullet through their head, and if it was America, I couldn't count that for suicide… It would cause complications for me, so instead, I've made an alternative!"

Simultaneously, their faces slackened, and Lithuania blew out a quiet breath as Russia set the gun aside – although America continued to cautiously watch it. From behind the sofa, Russia pulled out what looked like the most vicious of concoctions – a clear white liquid that could've been VX, hydrogen peroxide or plain water. England, who was always cautious when it came to chemicals, regarded the small glass.

The next thing he did was whip out a spinner and a chilled bottle of vodka. A stunned silence filled the room as he clunked the bottle before his guests with a wide smile.

France started laughing. "Let's hope England doesn't have to drink that!"

"Hey, what's _that _supposed to mean?" he glared at France, who only gave a shrug and a smirk.

Russia ignored their comments and pushed the spinner towards England. "From the way you all reacted, you must know how to play Russian roulette. In this version, we'll have vodka shots instead of gun shots. I understand a lot of you associate vodka with parties, but sometimes I like to get it out for special occasions, da? If you spin the spinner and it lands on the bullet, you have to take a shot. Since you were so eager, England, you can go first!"

Reluctantly, England pulled the spinner closer to himself. He needed to keep reminding himself that it was purely down to luck, that there was no possible way Russia (or France) had rigged the game in order to see what drunk England was like. With trembling hands, he laid his index finger upon the evil red spinner. There was sweat on his brow; everyone was watching him. He inhaled deeply, and twisted the spinner round, watching the wheel of fate pass over that one icon that had a bullet on it. He watched it pass again, slower, and again, even slower. Then it stopped.

Everyone stared at the spinner, and then Russia laughed.

"Take the first shot, England," he extended the little cup towards England.

The spinner had, somehow, landed on the bullet icon. England raised his head to see the devil reaching out towards him, smiling menacingly, the cup of poison in his hand. England took the tiny glass and held it in his hand. All eyes were on him.

"You just… swig it in one, right?" England asked, wearily. "And it's not poisoned?"

America snickered. "You don't know how to take a shot?"

Indignantly, England straightened his back. "Of course I do."

"Go on, then," France taunted, propping his elbow on his knee and putting his head in his hand, watching England.

"I will," England looked uneasily into the little glass.

It was only a little thing. It wasn't like there was even that much alcohol to consume. It would be one, long swallow and then his duty would be done for the night (that is, if he didn't get the bullet icon again).

England raised the glass to his lips, tipped his head back, and downed the contents of the glass. There was a sudden burning in his throat, a fire that made his eyes water, and his brain to consider retching the horrendous liquid back up. However, that would've been highly inappropriate, considering he was both at a party and at someone else's house (although he wouldn't want to do it in his own home either). England blinked back his tears, head swimming from the burning and held the shaking the glass towards Russia, who carefully pried it from his hands.

France looked astonished. "You really have _never _taken a shot before…"

"I've taken shots," England huffed. "I just did. Let's play on."

The game commenced, and England's luck didn't seem to improve. Whilst everyone else was reduced to performing shots as well, he seemed to always be landing on the bullet icon, and each swig of vodka burned his throat and eyes. His head was swimming and sometimes, his head felt so heavy he had to support it on America's shoulder. Twice he was informed by Germany that he couldn't take his liquor and should quit, twice he was urged on by Russia who believed he was doing fine, so twice was Germany ignored the more fun the game seemed.

The evening progressed, and before long, it was just everything England could do to keep his eyes open. The world was spinning, and everything Japan said was hilarious. The door suddenly opened and Ukraine peered in.

"Russia!" she beamed and embraced him (for some reason, England couldn't help but notice her chest). "Dinner's ready."

"Oh, good," he looked mildly pleased and set the vodka bottle aside. "I don't think England will be joining us. He seems very tired…"

"That's because he's completely wasted," Italy observed, as they all looked at England leaning backwards on the sofa, already asleep.

Ukraine blinked, but seemed unsurprised that this had happened to England, of all people. As a group, they travelled down the hallways of Russia's exquisite house, and whilst Germany was reluctant to leave England alone, he was also desperate not to allow Italy roam without his firm instruction. He had to keep telling himself that, as long as Russia was within view, everything would be OK.

They arrived in a dining room. There was a long table, decorated with a snow white cloth that wasn't marred in the slightest. Candles were placed along, flickering lazily. Estonia was currently in the process of lighting the last candles at the end of the table. Already laid out on the table were small little baskets filled with rye bread. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, although it was currently off, the curtains hung in drapes across large windows, blocking all view of the outside world, and a crackling fire filled the room with a homely warmth.

"Did I forget to mention my sisters would be here?" Russia explained, approaching the table.

Beaming, Ukraine seated herself beside Russia's other sister, Belarus. "Usually, dinner is a more casual thing, however we all wanted it to be special for our guests!"

For all of you that don't know, Russian dinners are spent as a family, sitting at the couch and discussing the current news. That could possibly be because dinner is only the _second _most important meal of the day. It consists of two appetisers, a main meal, and a drink afterwards, usually tea. If you really want to know, lunch is the most important meal for Russians, and it includes a first course of soup, a second course of meat accompanied with potatoes, porridge or pasta, and then finished with a non-alcoholic beverage with additional cakes or chocolates afterwards. If they're seated at the table, it's always expected that rye bread be served, since it's a traditional Russian food. Considering his stature, it makes sense that Russia needs to eat that much!

"Why don't you all take a seat?" Russia offered, and his guests seated themselves.

He himself took the end of the table, Germany and Italy on either side. Beside Italy sat Japan, beside him America, then China, then France, then Ukraine, then Belarus.

"Help yourself to the bread," Russia announced, gesturing towards the baskets.

* * *

**A/N: **_Poor England - I suppose he'll have to make do without dinner... Now, if you don't mind, I'm off to do some extreme research into Russian food. I hope I've at least been a little accurate in what I've said so far; it's always nice when a little digging around pays off! I'm sorry this chapter was kind of short - I'll redeem myself by attempting to post the next chapter a little sooner. I hope you enjoyed!_


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_Hey, all. Here's the next instalment of 'Scaretalia'. I know the previous chapter was shorter, and although last week's was a little shorter, this one should redeem me a little... I know I said I'd have it out a little earlier, but I obviously couldn't keep to that. *laughs nervously* Here's the next chapter - I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

Accompanied with the rye bread, as expected, were cold meats and cheeses. Germany watched Italy help himself, preparing himself a large bite and then chomping down. Reluctantly, he wondered if it was poisoned, but since Italy didn't immediately keel over, he deemed it safe to grab his own slice and eat. Germany was not a stranger to rye bread – its tangy flavour was both familiar and welcomed and the meals that followed that were also enjoyed.

Although Russia stated the names of each dish, Germany couldn't remember them. He firstly consumed a delicious potato salad that contained meat and vegetables. France seemed to celebrate this dish particularly, but Germany was content to silently mash up his potatoes and appreciate his food. The second dish to arrive – brought by Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania – was crab meat, rice, boiled eggs and sweet corn (he was fairly sure it was called Crab Stick Salad).

They reached their main meal, which must've been dough dumplings filled with pork, piled on the plate and steaming hot. So far, Germany believed the food had been excellent, and although it seemed never ending, he was grateful that such a meal was served, since he'd last eaten at twelve and it was already gone eight.

"It's been so wonderful having you all here," Russia sighed, taking arms with his knife and fork. "It's a shame England couldn't make it to the dinner table."

"Maybe we can save him something," Italy chuckled, nudging Russia gently with his elbow (Germany wondered if he was a little drunk from the vodka roulette). "But then, he'd probably be satisfied with a rock, since that's the way he's scones taste."

There were more snickers across the table – particularly from France and America – and even Russia laughed. There was a loud impatient sigh, and then someone thudded a chair directly beside Russia. All heads turned to where Belarus had wedged her chair in between Russia and Italy. Russia swallowed anxiously and Italy shrunk away, a nervous smile spreading across his face.

"H-hello, Belarus," Russia said casually, although Germany was sure there was some hidden panic in his eyes. "Why did you move your chair?"

"Big brother Russia," she stated, seating herself and linking arms with him, sending a cold stare towards Italy who scooted his chair away, until he was touching shoulders with Japan, who looked uncomfortable from the disregard of personal space.

"O-oh," he said. "You, umm, left your plate… You should… go back. To your plate."

"We can share," she said, stabbing her own fork into one of his dumplings and sending a warning glare towards Germany whilst she chewed.

"So, Russia," China said awkwardly. "You said you were good at Russian roulette. Is there a, well, you know… story behind that statement?"

"Yeah – I survived bullets, what about it?" he looked quizzical, as he gently tried to pry Belarus off his arm.

"Oh, nothing," China's eyes flicked to Belarus and then he continued eating. "Food is good."

"Seconded," France mumbled.

"Yes," Japan finished. "Very."

"Thank you," Russia said.

Germany noted that, after that, Belarus's harsh stares and dominating glares kept everyone at bay from Russia. He wondered if this was what it was like for Russia every day when he had his sister round. He wasn't quite sure whether her attachment towards her brother was endearing in that she seemed to want to protect him, or whether it was creepy and possessive. He liked to trick himself into thinking it was the former, but the way she kept glancing at him indicated it may have been the latter, as well as the worried expression written across Russia's face.

Politely, he swiftly devoured the dumplings, and they were all served tea afterwards. For the rest of the meal, Belarus insisted on staying right beside Russia, going as far as to lean her head on his shoulder, her main aggressive behaviour directed towards Italy, who seemed unable to meet her iron gaze. That was what confirmed to Germany that their relationship was the latter.

After tea, Estonia brought in a large cake. Germany, who was nearing his maximum capacity of food consumption, decided this would be the last meal he would have for the day. It was a good choice to eat it. It was a light sponge, filled with airy soufflé and topped with a chocolate glaze, with a puff of cream swirled on the end. Germany found he cleaned his plate and finished with a satisfied, quiet exhale. After a meal as great as that, Germany could happily say he could die content on the spot. Russia had really gone all out on the food department for his guests.

The meal was done, and all stood to gradually disperse.

"Uh, Russia, where might I find a bathroom?" Italy asked as they walked into the hallway.

"Oh, just further down, about five doors," Russia pointed. "Want me to show you?"

"I'll be fine," Italy yawned, and walked in that direction.

Germany considered accompanying him, but decided not to, since it was unlikely Italy would leave Russia's house. He continued with the flock back to the room they'd be staying in, where England was still fast asleep and seemingly unlikely to awaken soon. It seemed sleeping bags had been provided, and whilst Germany found it odd that Russia had insisted on a sleepover, he wasn't going to be one to criticise him, especially after the heavenly meal. They sat down in their circle once more.

"We should do truth or dare," France laughed. "I feel like I'm in the sleepover mode."

"Truth or dare?" Japan looked alarmed. "I'm not so sure…"

"It'll be fun," France nudged him. "Besides, it's not like we're going to ask you to do or say something too embarrassing."

"I don't know," Japan looked guarded.

"Come on," the blonde haired Frenchman nudged him again. "What else are you going to do?"

Japan fell into silence and France took that as a victory, folding his arms triumphantly just as the door creaked open a crack. They all looked to see Belarus awkwardly peering in, her cheeks puffed out in what could've been frustration.

"Belarus? Do you need something?" Russia asked.

"Big brother Russia," she said, and he opened his mouth to reply. "Can I have a goodnight kiss?"

For a moment, his face slackened and he mirrored her expression. Turning his head away from her, he stiffly placed his hands on the floor, palms down.

"No," he said resolutely. "Absolutely not. This is boys only Belarus; go hang out with Ukraine."

"But big sister Ukraine is not as fun as big brother Russia," she stated ominously.

"No girls allowed," he huffed awkwardly.

"Fine," she sulked. "Anything for big brother Russia."

The door closed gently and Russia resumed his smile, relaxing as soon as she was gone.

"She won't be bothering us anymore," he said stiffly. "Sisters! They're annoying!"

Germany decided to take the opportunity to lighten the mood. "I bet brothers are worse. Prussia always gets on my nerves."

"Same," Russia smiled and Germany wondered whether he should be offended on Prussia's behalf, or amused.

"Oh, yeah, but sometimes I don't even realise Canada's there," America babbled. "He's just so quiet that you could lose him in an empty field!"

"Yes," Russia agreed politely. "That's true."

"Where is Italy?" France groaned. "We can hardly start the game without him."

"True," China said. "Send someone to find him."

"I guess so," Russia shrugged and opened the door. "Lithuania, can you go find Italy?"

He paused to listen, and there was a faint reply that satisfied him enough to close the door and seat himself once more.

"I suppose we can start without him," Germany shrugged. "He'll hardly contribute too much. He's too cowardly to perform any dares himself."

"OK," France beamed. "Who wants to start? I say we play twenty-one dares. Whoever says twenty-one has to take the truth or dare. I'll start. The maximum numbers you can say are three. OK – one, two, three."

"Four, five, six," Japan said.

"Seven, eight, nine," Russia added.

"Uh, ten, eleven," Germany added wearily.

"Twelve, thirteen, fourteen," America declared.

They all glanced at England. Fifteen, they unanimously decided.

"Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen," France smirked.

"Nineteen… twenty?" Japan said hesitantly, and then glanced at Russia.

"Twenty-one," he smiled. "Guess I go first. I pick dare!"

"Alright," France clapped his hands together. "I dare you to put your man pride aside and kiss you little sister goodnight."

Russia looked panic stricken. "I can't do that."

Germany had to wonder if France had noticed the awkward situation of Russia and his sister, Belarus.

"You picked dare, so you have to do it," France laughed.

Russia groaned and rubbed the back of his head.

"It that really a good idea?" Germany suggested.

"Yes," France insisted. "We'll go with you Russia, to make sure you treat your sister with respect."

"She doesn't want that," Russia mumbled, standing and heading towards the door.

The corners of France's mouth twitched downwards, but he scrambled to his feet and hurried after him. Germany pulled himself to his feet and found himself lagging at the back with Japan.

"I don't think this is a good idea," he muttered, and Japan shook his head in agreement. It seemed, then, he wasn't the only one to have truly noticed the extent of Belarus's odd behaviour.

Resuming to their original funeral procession, they travelled up a grand staircase. Germany found it strange they didn't bypass Italy along the way, but then, the house was so big there was a high chance the fool had gotten lost. They stopped at the door and Russia hovered for a moment before glancing pleadingly at France.

"I don't want to do this," he said.

"It's just a kiss on the forehead," France rolled his eyes. "Are you really that proud?"

France knocked on the door gently and they all awaited an answer.

"Hello?" Belarus sounded agitated from the other side. "Who is there?"

"B-Belarus? It's me…" Russia grimaced when France dug his elbow in his ribs. He cringed and waited.

"Come in," she said.

Germany watched as Russia, with a shaking hand, turned the door handle and opened the door. The room was dark, apart from the soft lamp that had a deep purple shade. Belarus sat forwards in her bed, a book hastily discarded on the floor.

"Russia," she purred, and the faces of both France and Russia instantly fell. "At last, you give into tempta-"

France grabbed Russia's scarf, yanked him backwards and slammed the door shut. The noise echoed across the house. There was a moment of silence, and then a noise like an enraged jaguar emerged from the other side.

"Run!" Russia announced, and they bolted down the stairs.

"Russia!" Belarus screamed from down the hallway.

Germany wondered why they were running from a young woman. His pounding heart told him to keep going.

Russia herded everyone into the safe room, and firmly bolted the door before diving behind the sofa. England snored and rolled over, slipping downwards and lying peacefully on the floor. France wrapped himself in the curtains and America switched off the lights, submerging them in total darkness. Germany stood in the middle of the room with Japan and China.

"Was that really necessary?" Germany asked.

"I don't know, but I feel stupid," China frowned.

"I feel bad," Japan admitted. "We probably upset her…"

"You never said your sister was nuts, Russia," France hissed.

There was a loud crash against the door. It strained on its hinges. Terrified, the three in the middle of the room tensed. There was another crash, and the door bucked. The sound of nails raking across the door could be heard.

"Russia?" Belarus cried from the other side. "Come out to me and leave all of them to each other."

"What's that meant to mean?" China pursed his lips.

"I don't know but I-" Germany began.

"Shh, she can hear you," Russia pleaded from behind the sofa.

"Russia – I hear _you_," the tone of voice was ominous.

"I'm sorry, Belarus, it was a dare," Russia blurted out. "Please don't hurt me and please leave me alone!"

"Um, Belarus, is Russia in there?" Lithuania asked from outside.

"Russia's hiding from me," she announced loudly.

"It's quite late, perhaps you should go to bed?" Lithuania suggested calmly. "I think Russia's trying to sleep…"

"He's awake," she countered, and Russia performed cutting motions for them all to remain silent. "Aren't you Russia?"

He shook his head desperately, and the silence was her only reply. She moaned, frustrated, and stormed away from the room. Russia dared not move until there was the softest of knocks on the door.

"Are you sleeping, Mr Russia?" Lithuania asked quietly.

Russia cautiously rose and approached the door. He unbolted it silently and opened it a crack. Lithuania's worried face could only be seen by the crack.

"What is it, Lithuania?" he asked.

"I've checked everywhere inside, and Latvia even helped me look around outside," Lithuania twiddled his thumbs. "But your friend Italy is nowhere to be seen."

Russia swung the door open. "What? _Really_?"

Lithuania looked at him oddly. His tone of voice had been strangely exaggerated. "Um, yes. Your friend Italy has disappeared and none of the ships have gone missing."

Russia turned to see all eyes trained him – looks of mistrust, anger, worry and, on America's behalf, smugness.

"Oh," Russia watched all other countries as a conclusion arose. "Oh, crap."

* * *

**A/N: **_A lot of your were probably wondering when the horror element would be brought into the story. Well, I'm writing this whilst listening to the eerie piano part of **Digital Pulse's - You Thought I Was Dead* **and can proudly confirm that the horror element is coming to life. The question is... what's happened to Italy? Is he even alive? I suppose you'll just have to find out..._

*It's dubstep, so if you have a faint heart or suffer from loud and sudden sounds, I suggest you don't listen to it.


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: **_A new chapter arises! Here's the next chapter of Scaretalia!_

* * *

It was one of those awkward situations that Russia was completely unaware of how he was supposed escape from. All others seemed to have decided he was the enemy and the cause of Italy's disappearance.

"Explain yourself, Russia," America announced. "What have you done with Italy?"

"I haven't done anything with him," Russia held his hands up defensively. "He's gotten himself lost, I guarantee you."

"That's it – I've had enough," America started patting down his jacket.

"Both of you be quiet for a moment," Germany roared. "I know Italy. He would be too scared to go outside. He is either in this house, or Russia has done something to him."

"I've done nothing," Russia protested.

"And there I thought things were going so well," France sighed. "It seems someone has to go and ruin things as usual…"

"We need to handle this matter securely," Germany gave Russia a withering glance. "For some reason, our host seems unaware of his own guests' locations…"

"He went to the bathroom," Russia sounded irritated. "Stop blaming me for things I haven't done. If I had decided to pick you all off one by one I would've done it whilst you were in your planes."

He received plenty of odd stares after saying that and ran a hand through his hair awkwardly.

"But I clearly didn't do that, did I, da?" he stated. "Lithuania, did you check the bathroom Italy went to?"

"No?" Lithuania looked puzzled. "I hadn't realised he went to the bathroom. I tried to check every door, but I may have missed one."

"Alright, rather than aim your anger at me, let's make sure he hasn't tripped and knocked himself out," Russia declared impatiently. "All stay as a group."

"Why the Hell are we gonna take orders from you?" America folded his arms. "We can't even _trust _you."

Russia sighed impatiently. "Fine. I can go without you."

"Wait," Germany held up his hands. "We need to trust each other. It may be hard, but if Lithuania really hasn't checked the bathroom Italy was in, and we really do find something we don't want to see, it may at least confirm to us whether we can or can't trust one another."

"He's sensible," China jerked a thumb in Germany's direction. "I'm sticking with him tonight."

"Can everyone agree with me?" Germany tried desperately.

"Look, I ain't gonna let my guard down," America stated. "I've never been able to trust this guy. As soon as he invited me to this party of his I've been suspicious."

"What?" Russia glanced at America. "I didn't _have _to invite you, but I felt obliged to, for some reason…"

"At the beginning of that party you had that gun at the ready, and it was only from the general negative reception that you put it down," America countered. "Face it, Russia. You're outnumbered. Your schemes are done."

"Schemes, huh?" Russia's face darkened. "Is that what you think this is?"

"Exactly that," America's expression was grave. "Now, hold your hands high where I can see them."

Russia chuckled. "Lithuania, step outside."

Lithuania looked alarmed. "Master Russia."

"Do it."

He complied, and withdrew from the room. Without another word, Russia gave the group a warm smile and stepped out of the room, slamming the door shut. They listened to the click of the lock. All stood stunned in their confinement.

"Hey, what's the deal?" America yelled and charged at the door. His shoulder crashed against the hefty wood, but it barely rattled.

"It's for your own good," Russia said ominously from the other side. "Come on, Lithuania. Let's go."

They listened to the receding footsteps. Then they were, once more, plunged into eerie silence. No one was entirely sure of what to say, until Germany swept open the curtains and stared at the full-scale blizzard outside.

"Lithuania and Latvia went outside in that?" Japan looked amazed.

"I'm starting to wonder if they did, or whether that was a ploy Russia set up," America scowled. "We should've stopped him before he got away."

"It's too late to be thinking like that," Germany admitted. "We have no means of escape. Whether we exit this room or not, we won't be leaving Russia's house. In all honesty, we're defenceless. It's a miracle he hasn't attempted to kill us already."

"Isn't that the point, though?" Japan appeared sceptical. "Something doesn't add up…"

"Then why did he lock us in the room?" America questioned.

"He said it was for own good," China's mouth twisted into a frown. "This isn't what I call good. I call this bad. Stuck in this room and there isn't a fireplace that's lit. He's gonna freeze us to death."

"Just as I thought," America muttered under his breath.

"Hold it!" Germany called over the indignant nations. "Japan is right. Something isn't quite right, but I still don't think Russia is acting correctly. I don't know what he's planning, but I can't say for certain whether it was or wasn't him who dispatched of Italy."

"You don't think he's dead, do you?" China glanced uneasily at the door. "I might be old, but I'm still too young to die. Especially by the hands of Russia."

"I considered not coming, but Italy and Germany were going and I thought why not…" Japan sighed. "Now look. Russia's betrayed us."

"Is it really a betrayal if we barely trusted him in the first place?" America demanded. "I don't think so. He's a dirty liar and a cheat. We need to take him down."

"Are you saying someone is helping Russia?" France asked Germany.

"It's probably one of his three lackeys," America clenched a fist. "Those three will pay the price of their crimes because of this. But first, we need to get out of this room and take Russia down."

"That's not going to happen," Germany scowled. "We need to open this door gently, not by crashing it down."

"Anyone know how to pick locks?" China glanced around. "I can't. I don't want to hurt my hands trying, either."

"I doubt we have connection with a blizzard like this," Japan added, holding his phone out and then shaking his head. "No luck. Internet is completely down. You could almost say we're completely stranded."

America's eyes widened and he slapped a palm to his forehead. "How could I have been so stupid! If I'd handled this the same way heroes handle enemies in horror films, we'd be OK."

"This isn't a horror film, though," China rolled his eyes. "It's real."

"Yeah, but it mirrors a horror film," America replied. "We, the protagonists, are stuck in a creepy, isolated building with a psychopath who is killing us one by one. We have no connection with the outside world, and the random supporting character has already been picked off, which alerts the rest of us to a wrong situation."

"Italy was not a supporting character," Japan commented.

"He seems like one," America said. "Either way, if you let me blast the lock off this door, we can rampage the place and conquer it just like the hero does."

"Or we miserably die," Japan worried. "Just like how they would in my films. Or we'll be forever haunted by our actions and suffer as the result."

"That's never going to happen," America waved a dismissive hand. "I can't stay trapped in this room when I could be out there being the hero! I honestly don't know how Russia's sisters can handle him if he's always been this way."

"Because one of them is obsessed with him and the other sees him as her endearing little brother," France panicked. "Russia's sisters aren't in danger because they're on Russia's side. We're the ones who are enemies in this household."

"First of all, we need to determine if Russia really is guilty," Germany rubbed his temples. "Let's weigh the facts."

"Russia's guilty whether we weigh the facts or not," America responded. "Everything he just did indicated he was the one who attacked and hid Italy's body. This has become an offence against all nations and if I had internet connection and phone signal, I would alert all nations to commence an attack against Russia in order to aid us."

"You haven't considered any other facts," France scowled. "Stop putting everything on Russia just because you hate him."

"Whose side are you on, dude?" America looked exasperated. "He's so suspicious. Who else could it be? Do you even have proof to show his innocence?"

"I have no clear clarity of his innocence," France stated. "But the evidence is right beside me."

He gestured towards England, who lay sleeping soundly beside the sofa. He was still oblivious to the surrounding word, and still didn't seem likely to awaken any time soon.

America looked confused. "England? Evidence? How?"

"If Russia aimed to pick us off one by one, he would've targeted England," France explained. "England is still here. Whilst Russia is not acting ordinary, I don't think he's the one who took Italy."

"Are you saying there's some murderer in Russia's house?" China looked dubious. "I don't know. This place is like a fortress."

"I don't know," France shrugged vaguely. "I just don't think it can be Russia."

"Could Italy be playing a trick on us?" Japan suggested.

"Italy wouldn't be able to think of this," Germany shook his head. "He also wouldn't be able to play it this far."

"We can't just stand around here all night," America announced. "We either go to sleep, or we bust the Hell out!"

"If we do the latter, what do we do with England?" China gestured towards the sleeping Brit. "Leave him?"

"We can't leave him," France objected.

"That's true," America looked doubtful. "And he'd be a liability if we chose to carry him around with us."

"We can't leave him," France repeated.

"I suppose we could stay here," Germany shrugged. "It's not like Russia has pulled any weapons against us thus far."

"I'm not willing to wait until he does," China said. "I want to leave."

"I'll admit; I'm worried about Italy," Japan admitted. "If England was fine before, what's to say he won't be fine now?"

"If we leave, we break Russia's house rules," France looked stricken. "Then he'll be really pissed off."

"He's already pissed off," China said. "Nice job by the way, America. He'll kill you first, at least."

"Not if I don't get there first," America announced.

"You can't possibly be thinking of actually killing him despite not having enough evidence?" France reasoned.

"There's enough evidence," America scowled.

"We need to stick together," Germany grit his teeth. "We can't afford to leave England. The less of us there are, the greater advantage our enemy has."

"You mean Russia," America corrected.

"Not necessarily," Germany folded his arms stubbornly. "I agree with France."

"If we stay in this room, our enemy will know where we are," Japan frowned. "Do we really want that?"

"But if our enemy knows where we are, then England is only in more danger," France said.

"Our enemy _knows _where we are because our _enemy _is _Russia_," America sighed impatiently.

"How many times must I tell you that that is not necessarily true?" France groaned.

England moaned and stirred, lifting a hand to his head. He pulled himself into a sitting position and looked at all the ashen faces staring at him. He squinted past the insistent headache and still blurred vision until he saw, in the darkness, all eyes upon him. He yawned and rubbed at his aching head.

"What on Earth is going on?" he grumbled, pulling himself into a standing position; he wobbled a little, but caught himself on the sofa before he did something like toppling over.

"England, you're awake," America grabbed in by the shoulders and shook his dazed friend. "You need to get us out of this room."

"Don't shake him," France pried America away from his European ally. "He's still recovering from the drink."

"My head hurts," England complained. "What happened? I'm absolutely starving… What time is it?"

"You missed dinner," Germany stated.

"Get us out of here, England," America pleaded. "Russia's locked us in."

"What?" England glanced around at all the concerned faces. He wasn't sure why they were so anxious.

"Russia has gone insane," China said flatly. "He has kidnapped and possibly murdered Italy, and he has now locked us in this room in order to stop us escaping or finding Italy or anything that could prove him guilty. Pick the lock and that would be really good. I want to make it home alive."

England rubbed his forehead again. "I feel terrible."

"England, you gotta snap out of this," America snapped his fingers in his face. "There's no time for hangovers. We're in a crisis here!"

"It's "you've got to"; not "you gotta" – I thought _I _was the one who taught you to speak…" England muttered, and his allies breathed sighs of relief; he was acting normal.

"Can you pick the lock?" America asked.

"A crisis you say?" England approached the door clumsily and peered into it. "I can pick this."

"Y-you can?" Germany looked quizzical.

"England's secret service isn't the best for no reason," he announced, producing a paperclip from his pocket and bending its shape. "Our spies are resourceful and understand how to escape deadly situations."

He fit the paperclip into the lock and they heard the clicks as the lock slid loose. England pulled the paperclip out and opened the door.

"What do you say?" he said pretentiously, aware that he was rubbing it in, but greatly enjoying it, since all had been obstructed by a door earlier on.

"Thank you," they all muttered in reply.

"Time to save Italy," America announced in a loud whisper, and charged out of the room.

He was followed by the rest – the team were prepared. But who, exactly, were they facing?

* * *

**A/N: **_That's a good question! I'm afraid to say this little author's note won't reveal anything either... My question is: who do you agree with? America and China, who strongly believe it's Russia, or France and Germany, who are sceptical? Until next time!_


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: **_Hey all, long time no see! Hmm, I'm as useless as Italy when it comes to posting these chapters, but thank you very much for your patience! Next time, I'll take the diligent Germany approach and try to make this week special with an extra chapter - I've been screwing around with you a lot by making you wait for each post! I'll try and be better! I'll really try!_

* * *

The blizzard outside buffeted the Russian fortress and snow fell in heaps. The door was jarred shut, even though America and Germany strained against it. They were trapped inside just purely from the weather. America sighed when they only managed to open it a crack, only to let in clumps of snow and a vicious wind. He slammed the door shut once more, and even took the time to bolt it shut to prevent any more invisible ice from freezing them. The only person seemingly unaware of the terrible cold was England, and the majority put that down to his recovering hangover.

"We really are stuck here, aren't we?" America sighed, sliding down the door and sitting there, a defeated expression on his face. "Guess we really do have to go into a war with Russia. I was kinda hoping that would be avoided, since a war between myself and him could be catastrophic."

"We could try and find Italy?" Japan suggested. "I doubt he's dead. Perhaps he really has just gotten himself lost and didn't encounter Lithuania along the way. Maybe we were just too quick to blame Russia…"

"I feel bad as well," France sighed. "He took the time to invite all of us to his house. I'm not sure why, but he did."

England folded his arms and looked at them questioningly. "I've missed a lot… Can somebody fill me in?"

"Long story short, Italy went missing on his way to the bathroom, and we blamed Russia," China said. "Who wouldn't? Anyway, he got angry, locked us in the room, and left us for dead."

"Charming," England muttered. "There's something going on here, and I certainly want to know what it is. I believe splitting up would be a bad idea, but we need to find Russia, and this house is huge…"

"We can travel in groups of three," Germany suggested.

"That could work," England pondered. "Actually, there _are_ six of us, so that would be very good."

"OK – myself, England and France will be in one group," America announced. "Japan, China and Germany can be in the other. We'll search the east side of the house, you guys can do the west."

China snorted with laughter. "How about no? I'm not going anywhere near creepy Belarus's room. You can forget it. I would rather go outside."

"Fine, fine," England said, unaware of why China was acting so strange towards Russia's younger sister. "We can swap."

"I-I'm not sure about that," France said, intimidated.

"What's the bloody problem?" England fumed. "All of you are scared of a young woman wearing a dress? That's ridiculous. What is she going to do to you guys that makes you so terrified? And besides, I've heard things about her that tells me she'd be more interested in Russia than us."

Germany brought a palm to his head. "My God – you're right. You saw the way she was earlier."

"We left him for dead," France grabbed his head in distress. "He wanted us to go with him for that very reason. We abandoned him!"

"It was probably Belarus who did that to Italy," Germany added. "She really didn't like him."

"We blamed Russia…" Japan said guiltily.

"Did you never think to even consider Russia's family?" England asked sceptically and they all glanced at him. "That's really… That's really… well… I don't know… (stupid)."

"We have to go save Russia!" America announced. "Split into our teams. Meet back here in two hours. That way, we'll have a lot of time."

"What time is it now? About eight thirty," England checked his watch. "So, we'll meet back here at 10 thirty?"

"Sounds good to me," Germany said, setting an alarm on his watch. "If any of us get in danger, don't initiate combat. Try and flee."

There was general consent as they split into both groups. England was aware his team had a more risky area to cover, but even so, if Belarus was looking for Russia, there was no telling which team would encounter her.

"We'll start upstairs," England said, and then noticed France and America trembling as they walked along. "What is wrong with you two?"

"Belarus hates me," France pleaded. "She'll target me next, I just know it. I should never have made that dare to Russia."

"Russia hates me," America grimaced. "Which means she probably does as well – that means I could be the next target."

"How about you stop worrying about what's going to happen to you, and start worrying about what _is _happening to you?" England threatened, pitying their fear. "If you don't follow me now, I'll be very tempted to throw you down the stairs."

That seemed to satisfy them to an extent, and they followed afterwards. England's only consolation was the sounds of their footsteps behind his. However, that was worrying because France and especially America were never quiet. He pressed on, each step taking him towards a newer unknown.

Meanwhile, Germany was having an easier time handling his crew. They had reencountered the dining room, and the comfort of the lit candles contrasted to the eerie absence of life within the room. There were no signs to indicate ten people had dined there only an hour ago. Germany noticed that even the rye bread baskets had been taken.

Japan walked across the length of the room and drew the curtain slightly aside. The outside world was a chaotic white mass of snow and wind, the skies were impassive – cloudy and darkened – and the deadly scene of the trees perched on the horizon was chilling. There was no escape. Japan let the curtain fall back in place.

"How about we try the kitchens?" he said. "Italy might have gone there."

"I didn't think of that," Germany pondered, and they changed their direction from the dining room.

They had no idea as to where the kitchen could be, but along the way, they found the bathroom that Italy had supposedly been to. The door was wide open and, looking inside, Germany valued the ordinary appearance of it. Pristine, white and scrubbed to perfection, he truly had to admire the order that must've been put into the maintenance of such a room.

"Italy was here, alright," China nodded, and gestured towards the sink.

Beside it was the white flag he usually carried around with him. Germany approached the accessory and picked it up. It was cold, and seemingly having been untouched for a while now. Why Italy had removed it from his pocket in the bathroom was…

"Hang on a second," Germany gasped. "Italy was actually attacked whilst in the bathroom."

"How do you know other than the fact he left his flag here?" China asked. "He's not the smartest guy – very forgetful as well."

"I know, but he always uses this flag when he's in danger," Germany explained. "He must've pulled it out when he encountered a threat upon leaving the bathroom. This is something the attacker chose to leave…"

"How come Russia didn't find it?" Japan asked. "Wasn't he headed towards the bathroom?"

"That's true," Germany rubbed his chin. "I'll be taking this as evidence. We don't want the attacker returning and attempting to hide it."

"What if it was Russia?" China asked, scrutinising the bathroom cupboard, which was filled with spare toothpaste, and plenty of female toiletry items.

"Then Russia never came here," Germany stated matter of factly. "I won't draw conclusions, but Russia never left our sight once Italy was gone. It can't be him."

"Unless he had an accomplice," Japan said.

"True," Germany said. "For which case he can never be trusted."

He put the white flag of surrender in his pocket, and left the bathroom back into the shady hallways. Time had progressed, night had spread her shadow further across the house, and hallways were plunged into darkness and quiet. It was also very cold. Germany could hear the distant moans of the wind outside, but beyond that, the hallways was unforgiving and foreboding. Nevertheless, he had no other option other than to press further.

Russia was in no greater a situation than Germany. In a black mood, he had left the others to their own devices, and away from the evil of Belarus. Lithuania had loyally stuck by his side, and he'd managed to traverse in the opposite direction of the house from the bathroom he'd intended to go to. He was in the west wing, which troubled him, because just upstairs was Belarus asleep, and the dare set by France still lingered boldly in his mind. Therefore, he'd resolved to remain quiet, as had Lithuania. The pair of them were headed towards the east-wing, and had been doing so for some time now. Russia had kept a consistent stream of conversation going, but every now and then had grown tired of speaking. He was nervous because the house could get dark and eerie, but he also didn't want to be accused of what could form into a murder.

"I honestly don't think it was right of them to accuse me like that," he spilled out indignantly, as memories fired his emotions once more. "I treated them to a wonderful dinner Ukraine had been so lovely to cook for them, I entertained them with a drinking game they all seemed to enjoy, and I allowed them into my house in the first place. Although my original intentions were selfish, I've actually found the company of others really enjoyable, since I usually get avoided and slandered by people like America and Prussia, da? Also, whilst you, Latvia and Estonia are perfectly fine, there are times when I want to ram a metal pole through your faces, and you're all so formal and treat me with a certain distance. I can clarify that I never want to get close to Belarus, and Ukraine can be so suffocating. I hate being the only brother, so it's great when I get to hang out with other people. Lithuania, you've said _nothing_. Beforehand, you at least hummed your reply, but now I'm starting to wonder if you're even listening…"

He walked a few paces, but silence followed.

"I'm starting to wonder if you're even listening, da?" he repeated forcefully.

Russia stopped in the middle of the hallway. The wind was howling outside; although his windows were especially thick, he could still heard its moans like a wounded soldier just beside him. His blood felt icy, his hands were clammy and cold, and the silence enveloped him like the sea of a dark, winter's day, when the black waters could swallow a man and he could never be seen again. Russia's heart was hammering in his chest. He dared to turn around, just to confirm what he feared most.

The hallway was completely empty. Lithuania was not there.

"Lithuania?" Russia whispered into the darkness, but there was no reply.

He was alone.

England was in the most fortunate position. They had been investigating each room, one by one, although France was a little ahead, eager to pry and nose his way around Russia's home in order to find secrets he was unlikely to find.

"I want to find Russia's room," he had said with the excitement of a child, which England found embarrassing for him. "I want to see if he keeps any dirty stuff there!"

"Why do you want to know that?" he had demanded, but the Frenchman had tapped his nose and continued in his path of discovery.

Right now, France had moved on to the next room, whilst he and America thoroughly checked under the bed of an empty guest room to see if Italy was hiding underneath. So far, they had found nothing that indicated Italy was in the west wing. They hadn't encountered Belarus either. Whilst it was comforting that America and France had pulled themselves together, he found it unnerving that France was splitting away from the group a little more.

"This is seriously getting creepy," America admitted, stretching and glancing around the room.

"I know," England reluctantly agreed (he was always reluctant to agree with America). "I was kind of hoping Italy _was _playing some kind of trick on us."

The door suddenly slammed shut and they were thrown into sudden darkness. There was a sharp cry of panic from America, but then England flicked on the lights. America shook his head and he turned them off once more.

"Hey, I found something of Ukraine's that might be interesting to you guys," France chuckled as he approached the door and rattled the handle. "Why is the door lo-"

There was a sudden thud and horrific anguished cries. America's mouth formed a wide 'O', and England stared into space, terrified as they listened to France's tortured wails – and then silence. They waited for what must've been twenty agonising minutes and then there was a soft knock at the door.

"Is that you, Russia?" Belarus asked from the other side, but wandered away when she was satisfied nobody was in the room.

Time passed painfully on, and then Britain reached for another paperclip.

"Wait," America said hoarsely as he grabbed England's wrist. "Do we really want to see what's out there?"

"Do we really have a choice?" he replied, his voice shaking a little as he unclipped the lock.

He swung the door open to reveal France's blue cloak strewn across the floor, but no France.

* * *

**A/N: **_Hmm, I guess that's the end of France - au revoir, mon amie... Vous serez manqué, mais vous serez reste dans mon coeur. Apologies if I've butchered the French language! If anyone has any ideas about who it could be, I would love to hear - u__ntil next time, folks! _


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: **_Hey everyone! Here's a treat, because I've finished all my exams and am feeling rather generous - Chapter 6 is here!_

_Oh, I'd also like to say thank you to a certain **Wilh** who corrected my terrible French from the previous chapter._

_The actual French is: "Au revoir mon ami - vous nous manquerez, mais vous resterez dans mon coeur."  
I wrote "amie", but of course that's wrong, because that's the feminine version of 'friend', and France is obviously not a girl. Also, my verb tense was completely off! I think this is just a reminder as to why I discontinued learning languages, since (believe it or not) after six years straight of learning French I'm still unable to get the verb gender right!_

_So thank you, **Wilh**!_

_Also, thank you all for the supportive reviews so far - they all mean a lot to me because it's wonderful to see that people are enjoying reading Scaretalia so far! Thank you everyone, and at last, I'll be quiet and let you read the next chapter!_

* * *

America and England stood in the darkened hallway; their third companion had vanished from sight. England knelt down and lifted the cloak in his hands. So many times he had criticised France for wearing it, but the agonised sounds of his dying cries outside rung in his mind chillingly. Never again would he scoff at the very sight of France. What had happened to France told very possibly the same fate Italy had met. It was very likely that it was Belarus, and that she had dragged France away with her in her crazed pursuit to find Russia.

He stood and hung France's memorial on the door handle. America picked something up off the floor.

"I suppose this is what he wanted to show us," he commented, holding one of Ukraine's bras.

Both of them considered it for a moment, before deciding to hide it under France's cloak on the door. France's last moments were spent ogling a woman's undergarments. England couldn't help but pity the fool.

"What do we do now?" America asked, as they stood lost in the hallways.

"Going back won't help us," England checked his watch to see it was around twenty to eight. "We'd have to wait over an hour in plain view until all the others arrived. I think our best option is to keep going. Maybe Belarus's room will have something that will pinpoint us in the right direction?"

America appeared alarmed. "Do you really want to go anywhere near there?"

"We have to," England said with newfound resolution.

They left the remains of their friend and progressed further down the hallway. It was America who knew the direction, as he had borne witness the devastating effects of Belarus's obsessive personality. Without hesitating, he opened the door to her room.

The lamp remained on, its soft purple light filling the room. Belarus was not present, and her book had been moved to her bedside table. England cautiously walked into the room. It smelt of girl, the faint aroma of perfume. It was weird to think such an abnormal person could have such a normal room. He ambled around, glancing at her belongings. There was a family photo with Ukraine cut out, making it just her and Russia. A little shelf showed a row of books all with Russian and Belarusian covers. She had a little snow globe that still had a little card on it that read "Merry Christmas. Russia."

_How impersonal_, England thought, setting it aside and thinking of the educational classical literature books he often sent to Sealand each year for his birthday (although he never got anything back, but what do you expect of children? Inconsiderate, really-) with a personal note displaying necessary family affection in the front.

"Hey, she keeps one of those photo books," America commented from the other side of the room. "I'm always one for nostalgia and sentiment."

The nosy bastard flicked it open and started flipping through the pages. England left him idly doing that, whilst he checked under the bed, only to find a strange, black box. Cautiously he pulled it out, and saw it had a strange padlock to keep it closed. He picked the lock and opened the lid, seeing what looked like a diary inside. England dared to open the diary to see if it was recent, only to find it was. He looked at the current entry.

_Dear Diary,_

_Russia and his nasty friends played a terrible trick on me. He was dared to kiss me, and although I knew he desired to do so, he was clearly embarrassed in front of the company of others – especially the frog and the hamburger. But I forgive Russia, because my brother is the only one for me._

_The book is still taking me a while to read. It's a little boring (and I mean really boring), but Ukraine told me it was one of Russia's favourites, so I'm really trying to plough through it… It's so boring though... Seriously, my brother needs to consider some new reading material..._

_Belarus xxx_

Awkwardly, he snapped the diary shut and placed it back inside the box. He closed the lid, and pushed it back under the bed. She would only know someone had opened it at the end of the next day, which was a full twenty-four hours; hopefully, he wouldn't still be around. He stood just as America started sputtering with concealed laughter.

"What's wrong with you?" he hissed impatiently.

"This girl is such a freak," he turned the book round to reveal pictures of Russia, fast asleep and unaware of the presence of someone taking photos of him.

If she wasn't his sister, England would almost pity her strange approach to attempting to get Russia's attention…

"Don't be cruel," he scolded. "Just because you don't like Russia doesn't mean you need to bully his family."

America frowned apologetically and closed the photo book and set it aside once more. They both checked the bathroom, but there was nothing of importance there.

"Guess she hides her tracks pretty well," America sighed. "We have no evidence against her."

"We'll just have to keep looking around," England said. "There's a lot more of the house we need to look through, and it's not like we've explored the ground floor either."

"How many floors are there?" America asked as they left Belarus's room, closing the door quietly behind them.

"Two – I think," England muttered, and they continued their journey down the darkened hallways as the time ticked on.

Germany was sure he had heard screaming in some distant part of the house. His body had gone tense at the sound, and his companion's expressions hadn't been as relaxed as earlier. China was still on edge, staying close to Japan and glancing over his shoulder. The way he was already using him as a meat shield was somewhat disturbing in Germany's opinion.

"What do you think that was?" he asked.

"I don't know, but I am not going anyway near that," China trembled. "My life is way too valuable to sacrifice."

"And mine isn't?" Japan glanced at him.

"I didn't mean it like that," China said doubtfully, but he still didn't move away.

"I say we go," Germany declared. "The other three sound in danger. The more of us there are, the more likely we are to take down our enemies."

Through an overall majority, China was outvoted, and the three of them turned direction and progressed towards the sounds of danger, rather than away. It was with foreboding hearts that a particular member of the group walked unaware of their own fate.

Russia was cowered down in the corner of a room, having crammed himself underneath a table and turned off all lights. He was pretending to not exist, because he had heard some very horrible screams not far from where he had been walking, and since Lithuania had vanished, he was completely alone and unsure of what to do with himself. After the dreadful sounds of dying, Russia had heard the all too familiar voice of Belarus searching for him. It had become too much at that point, and hiding had been his only option. Other than that, he was terrified and confused, as well as reluctant to leave the room. The world had been plunged into silence, and the quiet was suffocating him.

Russia blocked his ears and put his head in between his knees, trying to drown out the world around him and awaiting whatever fate had in mind.

England and America had been opening doors and finding nothing, and it came to a point where the searching process seemed repetitive and worthless. As they were walking along, England noticed a square outline on the ceiling, noticeable compared to the flat, light coloured ceiling. His eyes widened as he realised what it was.

"That's a loft," he stated, drawing America's attention to the square.

"Russia has a loft?" America frowned.

"Yes – it could be the location where Italy and France were taken," England pointed upwards. "We just need a ladder…"

"Where can we find a ladder?" America pondered.

"Oh, I don't know," England rolled his eyes. "The garage, perhaps."

"Good point, but does Russia have a garage?" America neared the closest window and looked outside. "Besides, his garage will be outside. I doubt we'll be able to get to it."

"Unless it's attached to the house," England mused. "Some garages tend to be."

"That's true," America said. "I guess we should be looking for the pantry then, or the kitchen."

"I assume those would be close to the dining room," England said. "That means we should return to the east wing."

"Good idea," America said.

The two of them made a silent mental note of how they reached this area, and then preceded to walk back in the direction from whence they'd come. America was invigorated by new life and enthusiasm after the disappearance of France, however, a nagging feeling in the back of England's head told him that something terribly wrong was happening.

Japan, who was walking a few paces behind Germany, was aware of how close China insisted on standing next to him. In his opinion, people had decided to play on the element of horror and use it as an excuse to invade his personal space. He disliked it greatly, but felt too uncomfortable to blurt out anything that could offend them. Instead, he had to silently endure what he hated most.

"We have an hour left," Germany noted as they walked swiftly down the corridor. "Although, we may meet them anyway."

As they were passing by the kitchen, movement caught Japan's attention. He paused and saw that all candles had been blown out, the dining room blackened inside, where nothing could be seen.

"Someone's in there," he stated, and they all looked towards the dark room.

"Let's go," China panicked. "I don't want to die. I'm happy being alive. Don't make me die with you two."

Germany stormed into the dining room and turned on the main lights. Japan looked in as well, only to see it was empty. Strange, considering the light of the candle had just gone out.

Thorough searching from Germany and Japan followed after that, as well as some half-hearted glancing from China. There was a moment's pause before Japan noticed what looked like a door behind the curtains.

"There appears to be nothing here," Germany admitted.

"Look at this, you two," he murmured quietly, opening the little door that led into what looked like a hallway.

He ducked under, and fit himself into a narrow tunnel that was dimly lit. He saw a glimpse of movement at the end of it, disappearing around a corner. He sucked in a breath. Whoever that was at the end of the tunnel was the one who had taken Italy.

He darted forwards, hearing the footsteps of his comrades behind him. The tunnel was small and confined, even for him, and something you'd expect only a child to comfortably travel through. Never the less, Japan pressed further, turning the corner and seeing a door at the end of the tunnel.

He hesitated a moment, hearing the soft breathing of either China or Germany behind him.

"I saw someone go down this tunnel," he explained, walking forwards, eyes trained on the door. "I bet this is where the attacker's been hiding."

He had slowed his pace to remain quiet. The attacker would be in that very room. He approached slowly, then closed his hand around the door knob. He inhaled deeply, nervous as to who would be on the other side.

With one movement, he flung the door wide open. It was completely dark inside, and very cold. A strip of light revealed that the room was, strangely, empty. Rusted hooks hung from the ceiling. Japan wondered what kind of room this was.

Suddenly, hands planted firmly on his back and shoved him through the doorway. He fell to his knees and the door slammed shut behind him. With great agility, Japan leapt to his feet and grabbed the handle, but a tell-tale click told him he was locked in. His hands were clammy, and he turned around. It was utterly silent.

He turned and saw the dark shadows of animal carcasses hanging, chilled, suspended form their hooks in the old fashioned method of storing meat. The way they were silently swaying the disturbed opening and closing of the door was slightly eerie.

"Hello?" he called out as loud as he could, turning to the door, pressing his sweaty palms to its cold, flat surface. "Is anybody there?"

He received no answer. Japan was alone. It only just occurred to him that, when going down the tunnel, it had never been China or Germany behind him. His skin prickled at the thought of the attacker breathing down his neck the entire time without him realising, right behind him, luring him into this deadly trap.

Germany paused in the corridor, after hearing only one set of feet behind him. He turned and saw China staring at him, bored but tense. There was no sign of Japan.

"Where's Japan?" he asked worriedly.

"Right here," China jerked a thumb over his shoulder at thin air, but only checked over his shoulder from the fearful look in Germany's eyes. "Oh, shit."

Neither of them hesitated. Turning, the pair of them raced all the way back to the dining room. Germany found the core lights and slammed his fist against them in rage once more, but this time accompanied with panic. The lights shot on – and the room was empty.

* * *

**A/N: **_Whew! This one took quite some editing, because it needed some thought over how it would play out! It seems poor Nihon is our next victim... We're almost down with our Axis Powers members - it's just Germany left! I'm still open to hear theories, and it would also be interesting to hear who you guys'll think will be next!  
_

_Thank you for you patience for all the previous chapters - with exams out the way I'm feeling far more relaxed and may even post some things a little quicker (you never know with me, though, so don't get your hopes up). Thanks for staying with Scaretalia so far, and Chapter 7 will come soon!_

_Hopefully..._


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: **_Hi, everybody - it's Scaretalia time! I've been really enjoying writing this, but reading all the reviews really does make me happy, so all I can say this week is that I'm super happy that everyone's been enjoying it so far! _

* * *

Germany and China awkwardly stood in the middle of the room. Japan was nowhere in sight, and wind speeds had risen to abnormal paces. Germany could hear the sorrowful howls outside. China lifted a candle from the table and inspected it. Smoke was still rising from it.

"Did he encounter someone in here?" he asked, setting it back down.

"Surely we would've heard a struggle…" Germany frowned. "We saw the candle get blown out, but there was nobody in here…"

"I'm starting to wonder if it was the wind that blew the candles out," China pointed towards the empty fireplace, where the wind whistled through. "That would blow them out."

"That's true," Germany replied. "Perhaps Japan wandered off…"

"Why would he do that in a time like this?" China complained. "I thought he was clever!"

"He is," Germany narrowed his eyes. "Which is why I doubt he would walk off like this…"

"Hello, there, boys," Ukraine beamed, walking into the room. "I heard you all running around. Are you playing a game of hide and seek?"

"Um, well…" Germany looked uncomfortable.

Ukraine clapped her hands together. "You should come and stay in the lounge I'm in. I'm just watching TV, but Russia will never think to look in a room where I am! Come along!"

She waved enthusiastically and left the room. China shrugged at Germany and followed after her. He wasn't sure what she wanted, but Germany didn't want to be left alone. He followed reluctantly, all the way down the corridor and into a cosy room at the end. Ukraine plopped herself down on the sofa and waved them in. China made himself at home and she turned to the horror channel.

"Why are we watching this?" Germany frowned. "Ukraine, you are aware that people have gone missing, aren't you?"

"Hmm?" she looked at him quizzically. "If that's a ploy to make me give away locations of hiding places, it's not going to work! Russia's always been very good at finding hiding places – I don't know how he does it."

"Practice from Belarus," China muttered as Germany sat beside him.

The door opened and Latvia peered in. "Miss Ukraine, would you like something to eat or drink?" he asked, and then looked surprised to see both China and Germany with her.

"I would love tea, please, Latvia," she smiled. "You wouldn't mind getting our guests some cups, too, as well as some little chocolates we can eat for our films!"

"Not a problem," he replied, and closed the door.

Germany watched him go anxiously. Perhaps he should've gone with the poor boy. Anyone, as far as he was concerned, was a target.

Meanwhile, Russia had grown the balls to leave the safety of the room he'd trapped himself in. He peered out both sides of the corridor, and then deemed it safe to leave his haven. He closed the door behind him and entered the hallways, cold and vast, suddenly endless despite this being his own home. His aim to reach the east wing bathroom was once again rekindled.

With measured steps, he began making his way down the hallway. It wasn't like he had to walk far to make it to the east wing. The problem was that he had to walk past the main staircase, which meant that, if Belarus was still awake, there was a chance he could encounter her and that would only add to the problems that were already piling on his plate.

As he reached the main hall, he made sure to cautiously check she wasn't prowling the area before passing through. Upon seeing the empty hallway, Russia began his quick, but quiet dash across the expanse, eager to get back to the east wing hallway, where there were rooms he could dart into and hide within if the need became necessary.

"Russia?" Belarus's voice echoed from upstairs and his entire body froze. "You better not be hiding in your room. I hate it when you lock the door and-" there was a fierce tugging at a door handle. "-this door is locked. Russia? Are you in there?"

Steeling his courage, Russia hurried across the room, his footsteps muffled by the rug laid down on the floor. The most awkward thing that could happen was if he tripped. However, this was not so and he safely reached the other side.

"Don't make me go and get the crowbar from the garage, Russia," Belarus threatened from upstairs. "Open the door and we'll both save time of me breaking another one…"

Russia swallowed and cursed quietly, his soft whisper extremely loud in his ears, although he was sure Belarus wouldn't have heard him, since she was upstairs and also making a lot of noise attempting to break the door down. There seemed to be no more shouts from Belarus, but Russia still almost ran down the east wing hallway, making a sharp turn at the corner and running straight for the bathroom that had ensured Italy's disappearance. He slowed his pace dramatically as he neared, and turned on the lights, looking inside the bathroom.

Lithuania was not there (although how would he have gotten ahead?) so Russia assumed he had been taken by the attacker, as had Italy and whoever had been screaming beforehand. As Russia stood in the bathroom, he couldn't help but feel that Belarus may have been involved with the disappearances. Whilst she was obsessive, he never would have thought she'd take things this far. Upon the arrival of his guests, she had been edgier and her manner towards them had been far from kind. All pointed towards her – the screaming had even happened upstairs, and soon afterwards, Belarus's voice calling out for him. He swallowed at the thought of his sister disposing of the bodies of her victims, until all that was left was him. It could not be Belarus. Whilst some people were still wandering around, he could easily live in satisfied denial.

The bathroom was immaculate. There were no signs of Italy having been there. Russia paused, wondering if Italy had wandered off and gotten himself lost. Whilst he was not so ignorant as to deny the existence of someone in his house committing these crimes (even if it was Belarus) he was sure that there was still a chance Italy had been lost and _then _attacked. The bathroom showed no signs of a struggle, and there were no hints of Italy having ever been there. Russia turned and left the bathroom, his search suddenly seeming wasted.

"Oh, Russia, I'm getting the crowbar," Belarus's voice rang from around the corner.

He held his breath and slipped into the nearest room, closing the door silently behind him and crouching in the corner behind a chair, keeping the lights off. He heard her footsteps as she passed by the room, on her way to the garage, but decided to keep himself hidden rather than face her. It would be best if he allowed her to roam back to the floor above so he could continue to effectively explore the ground floor. Russia decided to remain firmly planted within the room he took comfort from, remaining completely still but fearing the moment the door was pushed open and Belarus peered round.

America and England had the new mission to go to the garage. Although its exact location remained unknown to them, they were both determined to see what was in the lobby. England wanted to find a way into the lobby, hoping there might be some kind of aerial system that would allow them to contact outside powers. He was aware that the attacker may have been Belarus, and that Russia would probably be displeased to see his sister under attack from many vengeful nations; that was one reason why he wanted to locate Russia. He wanted to negotiate Belarus's punishment without waging war with either Russia or Ukraine. America, on the other hand, wanted to find Russia and (strangely) _save _him from Belarus and be the hero. Apparently, being the hero on one occasion was more important than a long going rivalry?

The two of them descended the stairs into the main entrance hall. There were no sounds coming from anywhere. The house was, suddenly, safe, although England always ensured to check over his shoulder, since America was more set on heading towards the east wing. They had decided to check around the dining room in order to find the kitchen and then, through that, the garage.

Turning into the hallway, they saw Estonia closing a door tiredly. He raised his head and looked alarmed to see them. He lowered his head and walked past, ignoring their questioning gazes. England narrowed his eyes, but then approached the door once Estonia was out of sight.

When he turned the lights on, the room was revealed to be a library. Tall bookshelves stood like a manmade forest. Without saying a word, England began to desperately search amongst the bookshelves in the hopes of finding something. Estonia's suspicious behaviour had made him wary. He reached the back of the room, America not far behind. America was glancing at a book he had randomly selected from the closest shelf.

Suddenly, the room went dark and England heard the thud of a book hit the floor. He darted forward and reached out, his fingers finding the fabric of America's jacket.

"Is that you, dude?" America whispered.

"Yes," he replied awkwardly, and then started heading towards the door, keeping a firm grip of America's arm. "I think someone just left."

He opened the door and looked into the corridor. The rug outside was uneven and wrinkled, having been disturbed by hurried footsteps. However, it was unclear as to where they had gone exactly. England narrowed his eyes, but the rug was only pushed towards the door where someone had hurried to leave. He glanced at America, who closed the door behind him and offered a shrug. Shaking his head, he walked back to the dining room, which was strangely lit by the main lights.

"Someone's definitely been here," he stated.

He turned off the lights and they walked out into the hallway. At the end of the hallway they noticed someone walking out of a door.

"Hey, you!" America said, and ran in that direction.

The person jumped and turned, bracing themselves for impact, but England yanked America back as hard as he could.

"You wanker!" he scolded. "That's Latvia, not some random attacker. Latvia, do you think you could tell me where the garage is?"

"The garage?" the boy looked dubious. "Why do you want to know…?"

England found it strange how secretive the members of Russia's family were, but allowed it to slide. "We need a ladder to get into the loft. We want to check if the attacker's in the there."

"The… attacker?" Latvia appeared confused.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but people have gone missing," England explained calmly, but at the same desperate not to waste time. "We don't know what's happened, but considering the second person has disappeared by now, we doubt they both got lost."

He didn't want to frighten the boy with tales of France's agonised screams, so chose not to delve further into the subject.

Latvia seemed to consider for a moment, but then frowned at them. "Just through this door beside me is a corridor. Go to the end and a door to the right will lead you to the kitchen. Walk straight through and you will find the pantry. If you go to the left side of the room, you'll find the garage door. Good luck."

He turned with his tray of tea and chocolates, and although England had a sudden craving for a hot beverage, now was not the time. He followed Latvia's instructions, turning down the corridor, with America close behind.

After drinking the tea Latvia had brought, Germany desperately needed the toilet, but was reluctant to go alone. He had even insisted Latvia remain in the room with them afterwards to prevent anything happening to him. He voiced his needs.

"Go, then," China said, eyes glued to the screen.

"I don't want to go alone," Germany admitted. "It's bad to split up."

"I can go with you and wait outside," Latvia offered. "I don't mind."

"Oh, thank you," he replied.

The pair of them travelled down the silent hallway until they reached the fated bathroom. Germany entered and closed the door behind him, leaving Latvia waiting outside.

* * *

**A/N: **_And that's all from me today - the question of who the culprit is still remains, but here's the next question: who will be next? Find out next time - but please feel free to make some guesses, because they are very much appreciated!_


	9. Chapter 8

**A.N: **_OK, so I'm a little later than I'd hoped when posting this, but for some reason, I've been getting a load of essays, instead of a load of breaks (jeez, I just finished my exams - a break please?) and I also needed to prepare for an outing on Saturday (so that was goodbye to my Friday). I just checked and apparently, Scaretalia has reached over 1,000 views, which made me really happy!_

_Anyway, it's here now; it's Scaretalia, Chapter 8. Enjoy._

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Russia had heard a lot of commotion upon entering the room. He'd remained hidden behind his chair, refusing to leave or look up as the lights were flicked on and off. It was out of fear of raising his head too high and getting caught by Belarus. There had been a lot of scuffling, some faraway whispers, then the room had gone completely dark and he'd been left alone. He was too frightened to leave the room. He would much rather stay in the dark. Belarus was still out there, and he could even hear footsteps outside the room. Somebody was out there. Russia held his breath. If he could have it this way, he would remain there for the rest of the night.

He could still hear footsteps nearby, but they were more distant and indicated someone was still in the hallway. He feared Belarus was opting for the "wait big brother Russia out" tactic, so he bowed his head between his knees and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the night to pass, and for the day to bring blissful salvation to him.

Germany wandered out of the bathroom to see Latvia still standing where he had left him. The boy was idly tapping his foot on the ground, but raised his head as Germany left the bathroom.

"Oh, good, you're still here," he said. "I wondered, but it seems the attacker is not on this side of the building."

"Just as well," Latvia said. "I'm not sure I'd be able to fight back if someone attacked me. Mr Russia's loving, affectionate nature has prevented me from growing big and strong like most others my age."

"What?" Germany looked at him. 'Loving' and 'affectionate' were hardly words he would use to describe Russia.

Latvia glanced around, as if expecting Russia to be nearby, and then leant closer. "He puts his hand on my head and crushes my cranium. No oxygen can get there so I can't think and I believe the deprivation has prevented me getting taller and bigger. I say it's his affectionate nature to his face, but it really hurts!"

Germany wasn't sure how to respond to that. Prussia could be a cruel brother, playing tricks on him and constantly mocking him, but that's what he expected from an older brother. However, he also had a protective side, that was slightly endearing if not annoying. From afar, he had always wondered whether Latvia and Russia shared a similar brotherly relationship, but now he wasn't so sure.

"I hope Ukraine and China are well," he changed the subject swiftly. "I would hate for them to suffer at the hands of this mystery attacker."

Latvia nodded, swallowing, and the pair of them wandered to the end of the hallway where China and Ukraine had been watching TV. As they neared, Germany could hear the screams of the horror film on full volume as well as the ambience to accompany them. He entered the room and froze in the doorway, Latvia walking into him.

"What is it, Mr Germany?" Latvia asked, sounding concerned.

"Damn," he cursed, and allowed Latvia a view of the room. "They've both disappeared. They barely even managed to drink their tea and eat their chocolates. That's assuming neither passed you by."

"No, actually," Latvia looked surprised. "You reckon the attacker got them?"

"Of course," Germany looked guarded, and then checked the time.

His watch read it was quarter to ten. There was still too much time before he met with the others. However, it was just him and Latvia. They were vulnerable to attack. If he went to the west wing, there was a chance he would encounter England, America and France. His two comrades had vanished, and he wasn't about to let Latvia out of his sight at this stage.

"We're going to the west wing," he announced. "There we have a chance of finding three others. We need to make battle plans and seek out our attacker. It's no longer a case of finding the others, I'm afraid."

"O-OK, Sir," Latvia sounded afraid.

Germany turned and saw the boy shaking a little with fear.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Is it possible that Mr Russia is behind these disappearances?" he asked. "Whenever I've said something he doesn't like he stretches me."

"Stretches you?" Germany heard alarm bells ringing in his head. "He turns to these acts of violence frequently?"

Latvia shifted from foot to foot. "Only if I say something he doesn't like to hear. He hates us mentioning America. He doesn't even answer if we mention that name, just falls silent and gives us that awful smile. I once hid this really ugly coat of his from sight, thinking it was old and disgusting and long out of use, but it turns out he wears it frequently and almost all the time. But it was so ugly, Mr Germany, that when he said it was brand new I almost died of fear and horror. Why would you buy something so nasty? It was too late for me to take back my words though, because I'd already called it 'too hideous for plain sight'."

"And he… stretched you?" Germany frowned.

"Yes," the boy answered. "I know stretching is supposed to make you taller, but I don't think Mr Russia stretches me out of the goodness of his heart, especially when he's crushing my head and spine later in the day."

Germany laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "No need to worry, Latvia. If Russia really is the one behind these disappearances, myself and the others will handle this. Just stay by me."

Latvia glanced at Germany's hand on his shoulder and seemed comforted by it. He nodded towards the older nation, and the pair of them left the horror film running and headed towards the west wing.

Russia heard more footsteps outside, but then the house was plunged back into silence. He waited just a little longer, before rising to his feet and treading his way carefully past the bookshelves and to the door. He took a long breath before opening the door. He then glanced both ways down the corridor; it was still empty.

He sighed with relief, and then heard something in the distance. It sounded like music from the end of the hallway. Cautiously, Russia wandered down, keeping an ear out for Belarus's voice, until eventually he reached the end of the hallway.

One of the room's doors was left wide open.

Russia felt a cold chill pass through him. Swallowing, he looked inside and saw a film playing on the TV. The room was empty. There were tea and chocolates sitting there. He lifted a chocolate and ate it.

"Russia! Those were for the guest!"

He jumped and turned to see Ukraine standing in the doorway. Her face melted into a smile at the sight of him. Russia braced himself just as she launched herself and enveloped him in one of her trademark hugs. Behind her back, he stuffed another two chocolates in his mouth.

"Oh, the guest is gone," Ukraine commented. "And China looked so comfortable…"

"Schina wushere wishoo-mm," he swallowed the chocolates. "China was here?"

"Yeah," she beamed. "He and Germany were here not long ago. Germany went to the bathroom with Latvia about ten minutes ago, and I was in here with China. What? What's that look in your eyes, Russia?"

"Nothing," he stepped away from his sister, his stomach performing flips. "I need to find them, though. I passed the bathroom on my way here and neither Germany nor Latvia were there. Just stay in this room, though, OK? Because I think there's someone in the house…"

"Someone in the house?" she looked at him oddly – it was an expression Russia had never seen in her eyes before, and it unsettled him.

"Yeah," he swallowed and backed out of the room. "Just stay in there, OK?"

He closed the door and stared at it. There was no sound of movement from within the room, but the horror channel continued playing. Russia stood contemplating the circumstances. Belarus had looked suspicious before, but now he was sure that was her usual behaviour. On the other hand, there was Ukraine. Both China and Germany had vanished beneath her care.

Russia felt all the more cold as he vacantly walked down the hallway. He didn't want to think Ukraine was behind the abductions. He wanted to pretend his agricultural sister was as innocent as she seemed. He pulled his scarf closer around his face, hugged his coat to himself and continued down that cold, unforgiving hallway.

Suddenly, in the far distance, Russia heard horrified yells. They weren't female, but were coming from Ukraine's direction. Russia tore down the hallway, away from the terror, not wanting to face the facts…

America found the cramped little corridor leading to the kitchen to be the most uncomfortable place in the house. He was sure there was a distant wailing or shouting coming from somewhere, but he didn't want to think their enemy was actually an old Russian ghost invoking revenge against those who weren't connected to Russia.

They found the kitchen exactly where Latvia told them it would be. The first thing America did was check the fridge. Raiding it of soda, he turned to see England glaring at him disapprovingly.

"What?" he moaned. "Even heroes need drink breaks…"

He slurped on the soda whilst England located a little door at the back of the kitchen that led to the pantry, and through that, the garage. This was the place they needed to be in order to get their precious ladder. England opened the door into the dark room. A crack of light slid into the room and- wait. The lights were already on. The room was just dim, not dark.

England swallowed. "Hello?" he called out uncertainly.

"Dude, why did you do that?" America hissed. "It could be the attacker."

England glanced at him sceptically. They had both seen Estonia's suspicious behaviour from earlier.

"Who is it?" Belarus called and stepped out of the garage rubble, a large, dusty crowbar held in between her hands. "Oh, the westerners! How nice that we should come across one another?"

America felt the soda slip from his hand and crash to the ground, soda spilling out across the ground.

"Not only that, but you're the America bastard that torments big brother Russia so," she scowled, and tapped the crowbar against her hand. "The moment he organised this whole thing, I've hated every moment of it. I knew it was a bad idea. The very sight of you sickens me."

"Sickens you enough that you would dispose of all others?" America blurted out, half hiding behind England.

Belarus's head tilted eerily to the side, and her cold, dark eyes settled on him. "I really want to dispose of _you_ right now."

"Bloody hell we were wrong," England took a step back. "It was Belarus this whole time!"

"Let's get the heck outta here!" America cried and stumbled backwards.

Belarus swung the crowbar to the side. It crashed into several toolboxes, sending them tumbling to the ground where nails and screwdrivers and other equipment scattered across the floor.

America raced back through the pantry, England not far from his heels, and Belarus not too far from them.

"I'll kill you for how you've treated my precious love and brother," she howled.

"Bollocks!" England wailed. "I say we find Germany and others and just _leave_ this place!"

"We can't just leave France and Italy, though," America replied. "We need that ladder."

"I'm not going back there," he felt England's glare on the back of his head.

"Why don't you pussies stop running and accept you're on Russia's turf now?" she demanded. "Russia's house, Russia's rules, and I'm here to make sure Russia is happy. Getting rid of you will make Russia _very _happy."

_So he is behind it all! _America thought as he sprinted out into the corridor. _Russia's little sister is only doing what he commands. The bastard was behind it this whole time!_

"We won't make it!" England yelled, and threw himself out into the hallway.

Turning round, America slammed the entrance shut and bolted the door in place. It shook as Belarus threw herself against the door and howled like a she-wolf. America staggered backwards and fell to the ground, staring at the bolted door.

"I'll find you both," Belarus threatened. "I'll find you and then big brother Russia will be happy."

"She's insane," England whispered, chest rising and falling in fear from the whole thing. "I say we just leave."

"We can't," America gaped. "There's a storm out there. We're trapped."

"Oh, no, I remember now," England moaned and held his head in his hands. "This is the worst. This is truly the worst. How are we supposed to get into the attic at this point?"

"We'll either have to find another way into the garage, or another way into the attic," America shuddered.

England straightened up, and then frowned. "No, I've got a plan. We need to set up a decoy of some sort. That way, we can sneak past her…"

America looked at his English speaking ally. "You really are away with the fairies…"

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**A.N: **_OK, so that was the chapter. I really hope you're enjoying Scaretalia - I really like writing this. Remember: you're reviews make my day, and I love hearing any theories and other thoughts. Thank you all for bearing with me, and until next time where X happens to Y! I jest, I jest..._


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: **_So, I'm obviously excited about the upcoming season of Hetalia supposed to begin in a week's time. Having also read 'World Stars' recently, my enthusiasm could not get any higher (oh, who am I kidding? Of course it can.). I was surfing the world of YouTube and stumbled upon some very odd MMDs; one that especially amused me (and I can assure you that many of them amused me for hours on end) was England, Russia and Japan dancing to Luvatory - enough about me and my lack of hobbies; here's Chapter 9 of Scaretalia!_

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Russia returned to his study. It was the only place he felt safe in his current state, and he wasn't able to admit he'd been a coward and had abandoned whoever had been screaming. He ran his hands through his hair, and then picked up a family picture of himself with his sisters.

It had been taken before Ukraine's independence in 1991, and it was also during the summer, his favourite time of the year. It was when, as a family, they were able to freely take family photos without any of their bosses interjecting and telling them to avoid one another. Ukraine was only here now because of special arrangements… He stood in between his sisters in the photo, the sun shining behind him. Ukraine had a smile on her face and her arms around him. Belarus stood on his other side, not quite smiling, her arms protectively around his waist.

He swivelled on his chair. He had always thought it more likely that Belarus would be the one to abduct people. Ukraine seemed too vulnerable herself to do that, since she was a cry-baby. He stared at the photo. Something wasn't right. Why would Ukraine do that to any of the guests?

He leant his head back and stared at the ceiling. Where was she when Italy went missing? Belarus had visited them around the time of his disappearance, but there had been no sign of Ukraine. They had gone to the west wing to play their game of truth or dare, Belarus had been there not long after them, and Ukraine had remained in the east wing with Italy, as far as he was concerned. Judging on the amount of time it would've taken to walk between the bathroom Italy disappeared in, and the lounge Russia had gathered everyone in, Belarus couldn't possibly have abducted Italy.

He raised his hands to his face and stared into space, horrified by the truth that laid before him. Ukraine was the last person to have seen both China and Germany. He hadn't encountered any of the others. The house had seemed empty as the day had progressed. Slowly, one by one, people had been disappearing underneath his nose. He had barely seen Ukraine all day. It was likely that she was picking them one by one, disposing of them and he had been unaware this entire time.

"Oh no," Russia inhaled deeply, his breath echoing around that empty, lonely room. "Oh no. This cannot be happening. Who's left? Am I the only one? What is she planning? Why is she doing this? Am I next?"

Russia wondered if Ukraine's boss had put her up to this. However, the attacks on the European countries worried him. He stood, determined to find some of the others, hoping the agonised yells he'd heard earlier weren't the last of his potential comrades being taken down by his older sister.

Russia laid the photo on its face, grimacing as he did so, and left the safety of his study, back into the dark, cold hallways.

America and England had travelled to the floor above, knowing Belarus wasn't likely to encounter them at this stage. England's plan was intricate, and needed precious time to be conducted. He didn't want America messing this up, so he ensured to speak very clearly to him and make sure he knew exactly what they were doing.

The plan was this. America conveniently was close in trading with Japan, and therefore had a lot of new technology. His phone, therefore, was able to perform high quality voice recordings. They had been spending the past twenty minutes or so recording their voices in a pretend conversation, acting like they were lost. The idea was to plant the phone somewhere in one of the rooms at the crossroads at the staircase. Belarus would head towards the sound of their voices, and whilst she was preoccupied with that, they would sneak round from the other side, and head back down to the garage.

However, there was more to it than that. Once they had finished the recording, England laid his phone downstairs in the hallway Belarus would have to walk down in order to reach them upstairs. He ensured it was hidden from plain sight, and he and America even mussed the carpet so that she would follow it as planned. The phone would act as a timer. America called England on his phone – their proximity allowed them to do this despite the failing internet – and England answered.

"Now, we leave my phone here," he said mainly to himself as he hid his phone behind some curtains. "Don't speak at all. If Belarus hears us from my end of the phone, it's over. The moment you hear her coming, hang up, start the voice recording, and hide round the other side."

America nodded, keeping the phone in call. England's phone was placed at the corner of the hallway, which meant they had around two minutes to run and hide. It was a risky plan, but if executed correctly, England was certain it could work. He and America hurried upstairs.

The placement of the phone was also vital. England decided America's phone would be on a room to the left of the stairs. That meant it was on the side where Russia's room was. He had guessed that Belarus's crowbar was for opening Russia's bedroom door. They had checked each room on the left side and had been pleased to discover that one of the rooms on the end had been open. It had been someone's bedroom, but they hadn't known whose. Either way, if they placed the voice recording in that room, Belarus would have to walk all the way up to the end of the corridor, hopefully wanting to surprise them, which gave the real them time to swiftly flee down the stairs.

This was where England hoped the phone's placement would also benefit them. Belarus loved her brother Russia; that much was evident. He felt bad for leaving him at the hands of his psychopath sister, but England hoped Belarus would rather stay and finish the job she had started, rather than come after them. With a double distraction, England believed getting to the garage would be easier than originally thought. He desperately hoped the plan would run as smoothly in reality as it did in his head.

They ducked into the room at the end of the hallway upstairs and crouched down behind the door. America held his phone to his ear, and the pair of them concentrated on breathing quietly. It was the only time that America seemed able to keep his mouth shut, and for that, England was thankful.

Russia stood in the west wing, the empty halls his only companion. In that moment, he felt like a child again, faced with only snow, and only General Winter, around the time when Prussia attacked and made his life a misery. He shivered from the lonely memories, suppressed them with an anxious smile and wonderment as to where his 'friends' (sometimes he really had no idea what they were to him) had disappeared to.

Walking two doors down, Russia slipped a key out of one of his gloves and opened the armoury. Swinging open the door, he found himself met with the one room he hated most. Lined upon the walls were the murderers of Russian history. Bardiches were seen hanging from the walls, spiked balls, threatening maces, swords, knives, and then the gun evolution that eventually raised its ugly head.

Carefully, he turned on the lights and locked the door behind him, choosing not to be jumped from behind. Heading to the back of the room, Russia assessed the wall that had the most recent guns.

The first thing he decided was that he would use no incendiaries, grenades, mines or rocket launchers. He was only turning to this not to burn or blow up his house, but to prevent any more damage being committed. If he was to guard himself, he needed something quick to handle, rather than any power guns. Therefore, the RPK-47, PK and Kord were out of the question. If he had to choose something, then it would be a considerably smaller handgun. Whilst automatics and semi-automatics were nice every now and then, he would need a much faster aim than the AK-47 or AK-12. That led him to two choices of preference. The Makarov, and the MP-443 Grach. The Makarov was probably one of the most common and basic pistols to handle, and whilst the Grach was cool, it was not 'cool' that he needed right now.

He lifted the Makarov from where it lay on a table near the wall. Lifting several 9 by 18mm Makarov bullets, he assessed the gun, but then instantly laid it back in place. There was no way he could shoot his sister. Russia abandoned the idea of using any guns and fled the armoury. Instead, he pulled his beloved faucet from his cloak and looked at it in determination.

"The magical stick will just have to settle this conflict," he muttered to himself, locking the door behind him once more.

There was a hollow crash from the other end of the phone, where America and England sat hunched in that room. Instantly, America hung up and set the voice recordings into motion.

"What are you doing?" England asked. "We didn't hear her go past."

"We won't need to," America stood. "That was her breaking down the bolted door and storming this way."

They ran out into the hallway. There was no sign of Belarus, which England deemed a good sign, but he could hear something thundering in the distance. America scuttled past the corner quickly, as England worriedly hurried after him. They skidded into the room beside Belarus's, and laid in wait, hearing their own voices in the distance. It was creepy in an out of body experience kind of way.

England dared not watch, but rather just listen. He could hear the softest sounds of Belarus's footsteps on the stairs as she approached their panicked voices as they 'discussed' what course of action they should take. He finally dared himself to peer through the crack in the door and watched her turn down the corner.

Motioning silently, he pushed open the door and snuck away towards the stairs. He hesitated, making sure Belarus wasn't lingering, and then started down the stairs. He could hear America behind him, and although they were both being quiet, he really hoped Belarus didn't have the hearing of a bat.

They reached the bottom of the stairs. America exhaled quietly, and England also released a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. Nodding to his closest ally, England returned down the corridor in which their prize awaited them.

"I really hope there's actually a ladder there," America whispered.

England nodded, too anxious to speak for fear of Belarus somehow hearing them at this distance. They returned safely to the wretched bathroom, and then to the point where Latvia had shown them. The door they'd bolted in place only moments before was splintered and torn down. America paled, but England, in determination to survive, even it meant _living _in Russia's attic, pressed forwards. He could hear the distant moans of something probably dangerous, or the creaking of the house, and from America's jittery attitude, he guessed his ally also heard the noises.

He opened the garage door once they'd moved cautiously through the kitchen and the pantry. The room remained dimly lit with tools scattered across the ground from Belarus's destructive personality. Fitting into the garage setting, England raised his head and saw a fold up ladder strapped to the ceiling. America followed his gaze and a smile broke out across his face.

"We did it," he cried.

"Shut up, wanker!" England hissed. "This house echoes. How do we get that down?"

"There should be some kind of stool here," America said.

"How about we just use the toolbox?" England rolled his eyes. "It's big enough anyway."

America nodded and set the tool box beneath the ladder. As he climbed on, England watched their designated stool sag a little under his weight. He needed to remember it was made from plastic that wasn't necessarily designed to support human weight. However, it held, much to his relief, as America started unstrapping the ladder.

"Just one question," America said, as he made progress on their salvation. "How do we get the ladder to the attic?"

"Bollocks," England cursed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know, America, but with great effort, I suppose."

America glanced at him with a sad expression. Just as he'd thought they'd almost reached their goal, their last hurdle seemed to stand a metre high. There was also the fact that, having been deceived by them, Belarus wasn't going to like them at all…

* * *

**A/N: **_I totally wasn't writing this gone midnight whilst battling an unusually persistent, up close and personal fly... (what is my life?) - but here it is! Scaretalia Chapter 9; the question of what may happen lays in waiting... I'm currently listening to the DotEXE remix of Monster, by Meg and Dia. It's rather soothing in a strange Dubstep kind of way. Anyway, that's it for me; until next time, when Chapter 10 (almost at double digits) is released!_

_Thank you very much for staying with Scaretalia this long and persevering with my inconsistencies! I was just investigating the whole traffic graph thing, and I happened to notice that people from all kinds of places have read this story - it made me feel extremely happy, because I have no life- ahem! Because it's nice to see different people from across the world reach what I've written. So, whilst those of you in Tokyo will be waking up to a nice 8:30 morning, and those in Arizona are just entering an afternoon state of mind, I am putting myself in the mindset of the tired - I'm going to sleep soon!_

_Somebody I know is currently touring Europe, and she's at Germany at the moment - so shout out to Germany. I've seen a load of pictures, and it looks like a fabulous place; I've been to Berlin before and really liked it! Where she stayed they had gnomes hanging upside down from the ceiling - can anyone explain the custom/meaning of this? I'm kind of curious..._

_Anyway, thank you all again - Chapter 10 awaits me._


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: **_Hey, everyone! Chapter 10 is here. It was supposed to be posted yesterday, but there was thunder/lightning storm (pretty horrifying) and all my power was cut off when I was just about to post it. It's here now, but the spooky setting in which is was written is not something I want to relive, quite frankly! Honestly, there were bright flashes all around my house and the roaring of thunder outside; pretty terrifying._

_Anyway, shout out time! Thank you very much to **WhiteWolf100101** for being so wonderful and reviewing on pretty much all of my chapters. Thank you very much, because I really do appreciate the reviews!_

_Chapter 10 is here!_

* * *

America had managed to get the ladder down, at the cost of Russia's toolbox, which finally collapsed when he went on tiptoes to get the last of the ladder down. The ladder had slid down, almost taking England's eye out, which had not made him happy in the slightest, only to clatter to the ground. Panicked, the pair had fallen silent, not wanting to speak or do anything. There seemed to be no noises afterwards to indicate that anyone was out there.

Carefully, a two man team, England and America handled the ladder through the corridor. It was suddenly strangely quiet, all sound having vanished. The moans or creaks were gone. Beforehand, England would have found the silence comforting, but right now it was deafening.

"Dude, we're seriously late," America commented, as they walked, and England checked his watch.

It read ten thirty five. "You're right. We were supposed to meet the other three at the meeting point by now."

"You don't think Belarus would have gotten them?" America sounded scared, but he was faced away, so England couldn't see his expression.

"I don't know if Germany would… really, and truly, America, I don't think they're there…" England sighed.

America stopped instantly in his tracks and turned to England, blue eyes wide and strangely blazing with sudden anger.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

England met his gaze levelly. "I mean, we should have seen them. In about the space of forty minutes, we've covered both the bottom and top of the east wing. The east wing was supposed to be where Germany and the other two were looking. We've encountered none of them since the moment we split up. They're not here, America."

"What if they went to the west wing?" America asked.

"Would you just listen to me, dammit?" England laid his half of the ladder down and glared at America. "Germany would have purposefully sought us out. He would have called us. He wouldn't have listlessly wandered down the hallways in search of us. Germany is competent, and so are China and Japan. They're gone, America. _It's just us_."

America's face was ashen, and he suddenly turned and strode down the hallway.

"Where the Hell are you going?" England demanded, following after him. "We can't split up, and we can't leave the ladder."

He watched America crouch beside the curtain and lift his phone. England frowned, and watched America call Germany's number, his brows furrowed and his face determined. They both stood in horrible silence as the phone called… and called… and then suddenly disconnected.

"He hung up?" America whispered.

"Did you hear a phone ringing down the corridor?" England questioned.

"No," America lowered the phone and stared at it in his hands.

"Then, Germany's not there," England frowned. "America, I'm sorry, but-"

"We should've just stayed as _one big group_," America ranted, clenching England's phone in his hand. "Why the Hell did we split up in the first place?"

"To cover more of Russia's house," England muttered.

"Whose idea was it anyway?" he demanded. "Because it was a pretty crap decision."

"It was _your _idea," England snapped, and watched America's face fall. "It was _your _idea and- and the rest of us just went with it."

"You should have stopped me like you usually do!" America blurted out, his voice echoing down the hallway. "You should have done something. You should have told me I was being an idiot. You should have rolled your eyes and rallied public opinion against mine. You should have-"

"Yes, I should've bloody ignored you, but I didn't, did I?" England said, frustrated.

"They're gone, England," America held up his phone in front of him. "_They're gone_. Someone has Germany's phone, and I can tell you that it's _not Germany_. And whose decision was it to weaken our numbers? It was _mine_. And why did I do that? Because it sounded like a _cool horror film_. My own decisions have caused the deaths of some of our closest friends. How can I live with that?"

"W-well you can't kill yourself," England said, unsure but recalling America still had his gun on his person.

"No, and I'm not going to," America shoved the phone in England's hands and strode past. "I'm going to make things right. I'm going to make the change that counts. I didn't earn my freedom just to send the people most important to me _to the grave_, I earned it to show my strength as an independent nation and now look at me."

England turned, the phone still in his hand, to see America standing in the middle of the hallway, facing away, his hands clenched in tight fists.

"America-"

"You're not getting left behind," America said. "A hero never leaves _anyone _behind. Especially not the first person in his life. The teacher is always valued, and you've taught me so much I know, England. You raised me up, and although you didn't have the strength to put me down when we fought, we've had highlights and you're the one in my childhood memories. If there's anyone I need at my side at the moment, then it's you, because that's what I've always wanted. I've always wanted to stand side by side and see the world you viewed, and I want to keep seeing that world with you. It doesn't end here. We'll take the ladder to the attic even it means using force to get Belarus out of the way, we'll get a signal from the highest point of the building and we'll get every freaking nation we know to come here and get us the Hell out!"

Suddenly, he turned towards England with a grin and a spark in his eyes, a new life rejuvenated.

"I might be headstrong with all this talk," he beamed. "But I don't just _look _the hero, I _am _the hero. And the hero always wins."

"America," England swallowed, trying not to feel touched. "America… I… let's just do this."

He strode past the idiot and lifted his end of the ladder. He waited, but nothing happened. He raised his head and saw America smiling at him.

"What?" he said indignantly.

"Nothing," America smiled, and lifted his end of the ladder. "Let's just do this."

They both froze at the sound of a distant squeaking, like the sound of a crowbar being dragged across the floor. America's eyes widened, and he looked at England.

"We'll hide for now," England returned his previous smile. "Belarus should check the garage. That's when we make our-"

"Oh, hello you two," Ukraine walked out the bathroom. "What are you doing with the ladder?"

"We're hiding from Belarus," England said, an idea forming. "Is it possible we could hide in your room with you and you could send her to the west wing?"

Ukraine rubbed her chin, and then smiled mischievously at them both. "Sounds good to me…"

Russia held the faucet in his hands. He had been checking every room thoroughly, just to make sure no one was hiding in them. There appeared to be no signs of anyone crouching, and he also encountered no one in the hallway. He desperately wished Lithuania was there. He hated being alone. It was just so… lonely?

Russia paused before the last room of the west wing, and pushed open the door with fond familiarity. He entered into the lounge where everything had gone wrong. It was exactly as he'd left it when he'd locked them in.

"I was only trying to do the right thing," he murmured, as he walked into the room.

He saw the gun and vodka bottle from when they'd played Russian roulette. Sighing, he seated himself on the floor and picked them both up. Everything had been so wonderful then.

The gun reminded him of their instantly horrified expressions when it had seemed he was going to have them all killed in a dangerous game. The vodka? He laughed out loud a little when he recalled how pissed England had become and how he'd missed dinner because of it.

"I miss them all," he realised, and put the gun down, frowning.

Each of them had their own special quirks, and whilst they sometimes irritated him, there were times when they were the most wonderful people he knew.

China could sometimes annoy him with his constant self-serving business nature, but when he dived from the plane believing the snow would cushion his fall and broke his back as a result, it was China who had stayed with him, had made sure he'd reached safety, and had even stayed at his house to make sure he lived, as well as helping Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania recover his health when he had that tragic fever, just because he'd been passing by at the time. China, beneath the layers of business, was a really nice guy.

Germany had no sense of humour and could be brutally harsh, but Russia could understand his present nature, since he'd been entirely blamed for World War One, when actually, by the time the whole thing had become a blown out mess, it was everyone's fault. Germany was also sensible and rational, and it was nice that he hadn't wanted to think that he, Russia, had abducted Italy when the horrors began.

Italy was a pathetic little so and so, but he was too scared to _not _be Russia's friend, and he had never caused any harm to him.

Japan was quiet and rather reclusive when he didn't need to be, but Russia couldn't blame him because of his hatred of physical contact. His love for cats was also endearing, and although they'd never signed a peace contract after World War Two, Russia honestly thought there was nothing seriously wrong with Japan.

France was weird and perverted, and whilst Russia wouldn't leave him alone in a room with his sisters, he was funny and daring, and his confidence was something Russia admired. France had given him the adrenaline rush and strength to actually knock of Belarus's door in the first place, but he'd also had the responsibility of having caused distress, and had been adult enough to take the blame. Russia missed his odd habits and comments, as well as the well behaved figure he could sometimes look up to.

England was the worst cook Russia had ever met and would probably ever meet, and whilst every time he served you a meal it was the equivalent of an attempted assassination through poisoning, Russia couldn't blame the man for being a hopeless chef. His rude cusses were always placed at the right time, and although Russia felt he laughed _at_ England rather than _with_ him, there was just that level of amusement that brought him certain joy.

And then there was America. America, Russia's greatest enemy, and the only person he hated hearing being mentioned. The very sound of his name sometimes reduced him to enraged silence that he had to bottle up in desperation not to do something crazy, and the guy himself drove him round the wall with his constant hamburgers and switching Democratic and Republican views. He was obnoxious and acted like a child, and also never invited him to his amazing Christmas parties, which Russia pretended never bothered him, but actually, sitting in front of the fire alone without even having received an invite really hurt, because America purposely excluded him. He was the most annoying person Russia had ever had the grace of meeting; he was the only person Russia _didn't _mind being on bad terms with.

However, he was also the hero character. He was 'Murica! The life of the party! The get-go, outgoing, lively, laid-back, slightly naïve, constantly jovial, confident guy who could always be relied on to make the mood more comfortable if things became awkward. He was one of the strongest of the nations, and although he was never shy to execute his strength, his closeness with a nation was really emphasised when he was friends with them. He was Russia's antithesis; he had all the friends, he had the wonderful sunny weather, he had the ability to speak out and say exactly what he was thinking and he had normal siblings and people he considered family. He had a community that he was part of, and there were times when Russia was able to work alongside him perfectly fine, especially when they were against the Axis Powers. America was that one guy that you couldn't _always _hate. He was America, the USA, and right now, he was probably long gone, wiped out like a candle at the hands of Ukraine.

Russia downed the rest of the vodka bottle and stood with new-found determination. This needed to end and it needed to end now.

* * *

**A/N: **_That's it for this week! Until next time, readers - hopefully nature itself won't try and prevent me posting the next chapter when it comes._


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: **_Hey, all! I finally finished the next chapter of Scaretalia! I'll admit, I was a little busy this week, so I've been a bit slower, than usual, so sorry for the wait! I would just like to fling a shout out to **MeddlinMegs **who has been wonderful, posting all these reviews (and discussing Hetalia: The World Twinkle with me, because that always makes me feel good). Thank you very much for all the support and reviews. I love writing Scaretalia, but I also love getting your reviews! Here's Chapter 11!_

* * *

England and America carefully laid the ladder down on the floor. Ukraine had sent them to this room and had continued to pretend to be in the bathroom for the sake of sending Belarus away. England noticed the tea and chocolates on the table. The tea looked cold, but his lack of dinner was suddenly alerted to a rumbling stomach.

America gave him a look. "How are you hungry? We ate dinner just two and a bit hours ago…"

"I wasn't there, remember?" he scowled. "I also restrained myself when you were raiding Russia's fridge because I have basic manners."

"Whatever," America sat down on the sofa and breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm just glad we finally get to lie down or something…"

"Do you think Ukraine would mind if I just… helped myself?" he asked, looking upon the delicate chocolates.

"Ukraine's lovely," America said. "She would get you more if she knew you were hungry."

"Except I'm not going to abuse my hunger and use her as a slave," he glared at America. "However, just one will be enough to keep up my energy."

"You tired, dude?" America asked.

England popped a chocolate in his mouth and turned his head to see America sending him a curious look. Admittedly, lack of food since around three thirty (precisely seven hours and twenty minutes ago) had sapped the strength from him. The running around, the intense planning and the carrying a heavy ladder around was finally doing its toll. He sighed and leaned back into the couch, savouring the one chocolate.

"I am," he admitted.

"I'd have let you drink that soda earlier if I'd known," America looked guilty. "I don't want to push you. Maybe you should stay here with Ukraine whilst I take the ladder to the attic and do what needs to be done?"

"Absolutely not," England sat up. "You said so yourself – there's no way we can split up."

America nodded, satisfied with the answer, and settled himself down into the sofa. "Just eat a load of chocolate. The sugar rush should help."

"Where is Ukraine?" England glanced towards the door. "I'd have thought she'd be back by now."

"Belarus wouldn't harm her own sister, would she?" America looked concerned.

"I doubt so," England frowned, helping himself to another chocolate. "Unless there's a problem and she can't make Belarus go to the west wing?"

"If so, we'll just have to wait her out," America swallowed. "Ukraine might even be able to prevent Belarus from attacking us."

England nodded, and helped himself to at least another three chocolates when the door opened and Ukraine walked in handling a tray. On it was more tea and what looked like jam tarts the size of a large hand's palm. She set the food down and sat in between England and America on the sofa.

"Tea for three, and tarts to accompany!" she beamed. "I made these a couple days back, so they're still relatively fresh. There's an additional one for England, since – poor you – you missed dinner!"

"Why thank you," England helped himself to a tart. It was delicious. "This is fantastic!"

"Thank you!" she laughed. "I've always been a baker. And, you know, sweet little Russia shares that with me. I've never seen Belarus as much as touch a stove, but if she shows any culinary prowess, I will not be surprised! But it's strange… I haven't been able to find Lithuania, Estonia or Latvia anywhere!"

"Oh?" America looked quizzical between bites of tart.

"Well, it's quite strange really," she poured them all tea. "Lithuania was with Russia last I ever saw of him, and that was just after dinner. Well, Russia arrived here some time ago, about an hour ago actually, and he was alone. That was just a little before Latvia had left with that German friend of yours to go the bathroom, but when I returned, neither were there! And Estonia! He went to bed, but when I went to his room, there was no one there!"

"Estonia's vanished?" America looked horrified. "I like him…"

"Where's his room?" England asked edgily.

"Left side of the stairs, at the end of the hallway," Ukraine replied. "Why?"

"We passed by there," England said carefully, thinking about the phone plan. "He wasn't there, and I'm sure that was before you went there, assuming you just headed there now?"

She nodded absently. England glanced at America, who looked deeply concerned.

"I've always had a certain place in my heart for the Baltics," America announced, finishing his tart and drinking his tea. "I hate to think something's happened to them."

"It was strange; Russia said someone might be in the house," Ukraine admitted. "But that's impossible. We don't have a back door, so the only entrance is the front door. Whenever Russia's out, one of the Baltics stays by the door to greet him, so would've seen if someone entered. That's ignoring the fact we're surrounded by miles of dense snow and some thick woods. It's very difficult to get through the Russian border without being shot down in suspicion of attack. I really don't know what's going on…"

England swallowed and chose his words carefully. "Have you ever considered-"

"I think they're playing a trick on him," she shrugged. "He's just a bit silly and probably hasn't noticed, and you two evidently aren't in on the joke, because you're still wandering around. Unless, that is, you actually are in on it, and that's why you have a ladder?"

"No, Ma'am," America smiled, crumbs on his mouth. "But we're getting everything sorted!"

"Sorted?" she looked concerned. "Has there been an argument amongst you boys?"

"No, there hasn't," England said, drinking his tea. "But, Ukraine, you should probably stay in here. Also, I advise you to avoid Belarus from now on."

"Belarus?" Ukraine held her cup in her hands.

"Oh, if anyone's in an argument, then she fell out with us during a game of truth or dare," America nodded. "She's been quite mad at us ever since."

"I suppose that explains the crowbar," Ukraine said.

"We should best be going," England checked the time. "We can't take any longer on this. Thank you very much for the tea and food."

Ukraine nodded and her eyes flicked back to the TV as they stood and lifted the ladder once more.

"I can deal with Belarus if she comes here," she said as they left the room.

Russia left the lounge where everything had started. He held the faucet still, but had chosen to leave the gun, since that was something he could never pull through. He ambled out into the hallway, the pep talk from the vodka having boosted his confidence.

"Big brother Russia?" Belarus said from behind him and he turned.

He whirled around with a stretched smile and saw his younger sister standing at the end of the hallway, staring at him. The way the moonlight cast shadows across her face and the hollow expression in her eyes was somewhat terrifying.

"It's really you," she said, taking a step closer, as he took a step back. "I've missed you so much. All your horrible friends have been keeping you away from me, and then you locked your bedroom door. I've been so lonely, big brother Russia, and I want you to comfort me…"

"Belarus, you should go to your room and lock the door, because this house isn't safe," he stook three steps back.

"You're still trying to get rid of me and be cool in front of your friends!" she hissed. "No longer, big brother. They're not here, are they? We can do what we like."

"No, Belarus, no," Russia shook his head. "I need to find them. They're my friends and they probably need me right now."

"_I_ need you right now!" she pouted.

Russia shook his head and started walking away. "Go to bed, Belarus. Lock the door."

"Big brother Russia, you're shaking," she commented softly, and he looked over to see she was walking towards him. "You're not possibly planning of getting rid of your guests and joining me, are you?"

"What? _No_," he looked horrified. "Go away, Belarus."

"But big brother," her smile was ominous. "Tonight is the night we can become one."

Germany felt warm. Wherever he was, he couldn't move his hands, and he was blindfolded. There were people nearby, but he couldn't tell who.

"Hello?" he said aloud.

"Germany?" Italy's voice was a warm welcome. "I didn't realise you were here, Germany!"

"Oh, there you are," China sounded annoyed. "I was really pissed when I was brought here first."

"Italy? China? What's going on?" Germany asked.

"I don't really know," Italy replied. "But I've been kept warm and was supplied with plenty of water when I wanted it."

"I'm here as well," France stated from nearby. "And I can feel someone's elbow in my back…"

"That might be me," Lithuania admitted sheepishly.

"Wait, are we dead or alive?" Germany demanded.

"Good point," Estonia said from beside him. "The last thing I remember was having a sack pulled over my head."

"Estonia as well?" Germany frowned. "Wait. Japan? Are you here?"

There was no answer. The silence was a crushing weight.

"Japan's not here?" China sounded suddenly strained. "I really thought he would be."

Germany craned his head upwards to try and see beneath whatever was blocking his eyes. Unfortunately, his captor had tied it round his face with extreme professional skill.

"I don't want to be dead," China was saying. "But it sounds like Estonia was killed, and Germany doesn't remember anything."

"I don't think I died," Italy said. "I don't think I'm dead."

"Italy, what happened to you?" Germany asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You were the first to vanish," Germany stated.

"I know right!" he sounded surprised. "I was so lonely down here, but now that you guys are all here, I've got people to talk to."

"No, no – I mean, what happened when you left the bathroom?" Germany asked.

"Oh, that," Italy sounded disappointed. "Well, I remember opening the door, and it was a really smooth door – no creaks or anything – and-"

"Get to the point!" China snapped.

"Oh, right," Italy laughed nervously. "I was jumped."

"By?" France prompted.

"Well, I don't know," Italy huffed. "I was scared, so I closed my eyes and started waving my flag, then I think I passed out in fear…"

"Did anyone actually see this attacker?" Germany asked of the group he had now awoken to.

"No," Lithuania said. "I was walking along with Mr Russia just ahead, and someone got me from behind."

"Same here," France said. "Attacked from behind."

"I was on the couch, and then someone attacked me as well," China admitted.

"Sack-napped whilst sleeping," Estonia grumbled.

"I was attacked from behind as well," Germany frowned. "Where is Latvia?"

"I'm here as well, Mr Germany," Latvia said from beside him. "I didn't see the attacker either. They gagged me before they got to you…"

"Well, this sucks," China spat. "Who did this? And where is Japan?"

"Maybe we're dead, and Japan survived the attack…" Italy sighed.

"Or vice versa," Germany swallowed. "Maybe we survived the attacks, but Japan didn't."

"No," China gagged. "Japan can't be dead. Oh God. What if his dead body is lying in this room staring at me with those vacant soulless eyes? I can't take it – it's too horrible."

"China, calm down," Germany said. "There'll be an explanation."

"What if he's dead, Germany?" Italy sobbed. "Japan's our good friend, Germany! What if he's dead?"

"He's not dead!" Germany roared.

"How do you know?" France asked quietly.

Germany sucked in a breath and sat there. The silence was his judge, and he could tell they had nothing better to do than to await his answer. Japan's welfare was a mystery to him, and lying to make them feel better wasn't working at this stage. He could tell Italy and China were getting panicked about it.

"I-I don't know," he confessed. "I don't know, OK? Wherever he is, he could be with England and America as well, because neither of them have spoken either…"

The thought of the three no longer being in the world made Germany feel cold.

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**A/N: **_That last bit was a little treat - I wonder what did happen to Japan? What will happen next? Who is the attacker? Fine out in the future chapters of Scaretalia! Remember, I love reading reviews, so feel free to comment! Thank you very much and until next time!_


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N: **_Hey, everyone! So, I was meant to post this yesterday, but my sister recently got back from her trip to Europe and I just wanted to hear near to everything about it. She's been to so many places and she had such a wonderful time. That's going to be my excuse, at least, because I was asking all sorts of questions about it - it sounded like an amazing trip._

_Therefore, shout out to everyone in: **Holland, Germany, Czech Republic, Slovenia, Hungary, Austria, Italy** and **France!** She had an extremely good time and there were absolutely no catastrophes when she was gone. _

_Here is Chapter 12 of Scaretalia!_

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England and America handled the ladder carefully down the hallway, heading towards the central staircase that would lead them upstairs, and then to the loft. Their goal was just inches away, and with Belarus being in the west wing, she was unlikely to bother or attack them.

"Feels pretty good to suddenly be winning, doesn't it?" America smiled.

"It does, actually," England frowned. "Who do you think the first person to call should be?"

"Canada," America said. "I feel I should at least let him know I'm still alive…"

"I can't say I'll be calling Sealand," England sighed. "He's hardly useful."

"Eh, don't be too harsh on the kid," America laughed. "Do you think the Scandinavians would help us?"

"Possibly," England thought of all the help they could get. "In this situation, I don't see why they wouldn't."

"Austria and Hungary," America said dreamily. "Oh, it's too much! I'm just glad to finally get the hell out of here."

After the comment about becoming one, Russia had lost all nerve. Unable to pretend he was braver and face Belarus, he turned and broke into a run.

"Leave me alone, Belarus!" he cried, as he ran down the hallway.

"Come back, big brother," she yelled, following in quick pursuit. "I want to become one with you and marry you and have wonderful walks in the park with you!"

_Where did the parks come from? _Russia wondered, but he didn't stop to question his sister's general odd behaviour.

He swung round the corner and started dashing along the hallway, glancing over his shoulder every now and then to see that Belarus was catching up on him.

England paused at the sound of footsteps. He tried to glance past America, but couldn't see beyond his ally or the ladder.

"Do you hear-" America began, but was brutally interrupted.

England braced himself at the sight of someone crashing into America, whose chin crashed into the ladder. It slipped from his grasp as he angled his body away from it to prevent any more damage being done to him. England watched his glasses fall from his face. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. Even the ladder being jammed into his gut from the force of the crash was painfully slow. The air rushed from his lungs as he pushed the ladder aside to the floor and braced himself for the next impact: Russia.

Having already crashed into America, Russia stumbled over the newly dropped ladder that England left in his path, he fell forwards, head-butting England in the process, where they both fell in a heap on the floor. Russia landed straight on England, but also hissed from a sharp pain in his arm from landing on his elbow in an attempt to break his fall.

It was a catastrophe.

Belarus who was running at top speed tried to slow herself down. Russia, seeing her coming, jumped to his feet and pulled England, who was gasping like a fish, up with him. America reached for his glasses just as Russia grabbed his jacket and hauled him along. In the style of Indiana Jones, he whipped his glasses up and snapped them on his face last minute whilst being dragged. Russia sucked in a breath from the pain in his arm, but kept running.

Belarus, unable to stop herself, tripped over the ladder and fell flat on her stomach. The crowbar skidded across the ground in front of her.

"I'm so sorry, Belarus," Russia screamed as he ran along.

"Big… brother?" she sounded more confused than hurt as Russia continued ploughing down the hallway.

"What's going on?" America yelled.

"We're getting away from my sister," Russia sharply turned around the corner.

England, winded from the weight of Russia, gasped like fish, as he was pulled into the library once more. Once released, he fell to his knees and focused on breathing, as Russia locked the door and dragged the sofa in front, as well as an additional bookshelf to go along with it. He slumped down on the sofa and stretched both arms out before himself, wincing as he did so.

America turned the lights on and stood, glasses askew and jacket ruffled. "Are you OK?" he asked England.

Breathless, England nodded, and laid flat on the floor. The lights above danced like stars as he continued to breathe in and out, each breath becoming easier as he kept at it. Once he was sure the air was travelling properly through his lungs and air passages, he propped himself up on his elbows and looked at Russia.

"Where have you been?" he demanded. "You vanished at the beginning of this night and we've been looking for you ever since."

"Really?" Russia looked surprised. "I…"

"Yes," England gasped. "We realised we shouldn't be blaming you for everything and thought we'd look for you, but everyone's been gradually disappearing."

"Where's France?" Russia asked.

"Gone," England blew out a breath. "What's wrong with your arm?"

Russia looked at him. "What?"

"You were… shaking it earlier," England said. "Did you do something to it?"

He shook his head. "Nah. I'm fine."

The three of them sat in awkward silence, none of them sure of what to say to one another. England was just relieved to have an extra member to the party, but he was well aware that America and Russia were enemies, or something close to that.

"I was mainly in the west wing," Russia admitted. "But I did come over here once or twice…"

"We've been everywhere but the west wing downstairs," America said.

"What was the ladder for?" Russia asked.

"The loft," England said. "We were trying to get there."

"OK."

Another silence ensued. Russia kept glancing towards the door, and America kept giving Russia glowers, only to look towards England every now and then dubiously. England, fully recovered, tapped his knee uncomfortably through the silence. He could feel America's eyes on him, and Russia seemed to be refusing to make eye contact with either of them.

"I thought she would've been here by now," Russia murmured, listening against the door.

"Same," America agreed darkly.

"Russia, is Belarus taking everyone?" England finally blurted out, and Russia turned in his seat on the sofa to look at them both, alarmed.

"No, Belarus isn't the one," he said. "She wouldn't do that."

"She was threatening to dispose of us earlier," America scowled.

"She just doesn't like you," Russia frowned. "I know, I know… She's very violent, but she honestly doesn't do a lot with intent to harm. Seriously… If she had caught us after the truth or dare thing, the most she would've done to France is given him a shake and then she wouldn't have known what to do afterwards."

"Really?" America looked sceptical.

Russia nodded, and they all lapsed into silence again. England strongly believed it was Belarus. He also believed that Russia was in denial about his sister.

"Who do you think it is, then?" America asked through gritted teeth.

Russia rolled his eyes. "Ukraine."

"That's utter bollocks," England blurted out and Russia turned his head to him, alarmed. "Ukraine would hardly do any of this. I think Belarus is the attacker."

"No, I swear it's Ukraine," Russia looked horrified. "I would never usually blame either of my sisters for anything, but seriously, Ukraine has been acting strange and I think she's the attacker."

"She had tea and tarts with us only about half an hour ago," America looked irritated. "If she was the attacker, surely she'd have poisoned the food or drugged it, since she made it herself."

"She made it herself?" he looked confused.

"Yes, because all the Baltics have gone missing," America glared.

"I don't know why you're looking at me like that," Russia gave him a hard stare.

"Because you're in _denial_," America said, exasperated. "Your little sister Belarus is a psycho. A light shake? I'm fairly sure she was going to bash my brains out earlier with that crowbar she's got. You know what else she has? Issues."

"Please don't talk about my sister in this way," Russia looked uncomfortable.

"Belarus is dangerous," America continued. "You need to accept that."

"I swear on my life that it's Ukraine," Russia replied darkly.

"Ukraine wouldn't do this," America insisted. "Have you seen _Belarus_, though? She was chasing you down the freaking corridor! For all we know, you could have been next."

"I would not be saying it was Ukraine if I didn't have a reason," Russia snapped. "At one point, yes, I thought it was Belarus, but some staggering facts about Italy's whereabouts when he disappeared provoked me to reconsider. I might not have solid evidence, but I've got enough to keep me alive."

"Go on, then," America folded his arms. "Give me this theory of yours."

"Italy was in the east wing bathroom," Russia said rapidly. "Ukraine remained in the east wing. Belarus came to the west wing to see us. The amount of time it would've taken her to get to us means she wouldn't have had time to dispose of Italy to arrive at the time she did. Belarus can't be the one. Why is it Ukraine? She was the last person to see Germany and China."

"But Belarus was outside when France was murdered and taken," America protested.

"I don't know what happened to France, but I can now assume that Japan went missing alongside Germany and China," Russia argued.

"She said Latvia was with Germany and that they went to the bathroom and disappeared," America said.

"She could've lied, da?" Russia glanced at him in disbelief.

"It's true that she never mentioned China," England said, suddenly feeling cold.

"Don't listen to him, England," America glared at them both. "His boss and Ukraine's boss aren't on good terms. He's probably just accusing her out of spite."

"Why would I do that?" Russia looked offended. "I don't want _either _of my sisters being the attacker. I want to see them as _innocent_ sisters, not murderous ones."

"Saying Ukraine's a killer is exactly the same as saying Canada is as well," America snorted. "That just can't happen."

Russia shrugged, unsure of how to reply to that. England had to agree – Canada didn't exactly stand out that much…

"How about we go there and demand answers?" America said.

"OK," Russia stood and faced him.

The two glared at one another, and then set to moving aside the sofa and bookshelf.

"Please," England frowned. "Let's not do anything too brash."

Somehow, he ended up leaving the room after Russia, with America stalking angrily behind him. Being sandwiched between the two when they were this heated about what was going on was nerve racking.

"You can guarantee that, when we ask her, we'll be able to extract the information we desire, that being the locations of all the people she's potentially killed," America stated, sounding like a contract.

There was a feverish burning in his eyes. England realised that America had just gotten desperate.

"I swear of my life," Russia sent him a dark look over his shoulder. "Although I would like to think Ukraine hasn't _killed _anyone, but just captured them…"

"Are you sure you can turn your sister in if it comes down to it?" America questioned. "Because if Ukraine is the attacker, then she's committed crimes against all these countries and has potentially earned a lot of enemies."

Russia turned around. "If it's not Ukraine it's Belarus. Either way, I and my sisters suffer, da?"

"He has a point," England glanced over his shoulder. "Just lay off for a bit, OK?"

"Dude, this is the deciding point," America said as they reached the door.

England found it strange that the door was closed, since they hadn't closed it, and he was sure Ukraine had also left it open. However, Russia seemed unconcerned, and opened it after knocking.

"Hello, Ukra-" Russia walked into the room.

England peered round and raised both eyebrows. Tea was spilt across the table and on the carpet. The chocolates were scattered on the floor and some had been stepped on and crushed.

"Ukraine…" Russia looked horrified.

"Swear on your life, eh?" America's voice shook – he sounded both breathless but also angry.

England turned just as Russia did and stared straight at the gun America held in his hand, aimed at Russia.

* * *

**A/N: **_Well, well, well... It seems that our nations have regrouped, but is that necessarily what we want to happen? Find out next time on Scaretalia, whilst I get to work apologetically starting on the next chapter for posting this one a little late... _

_I should just like to say a massive thank you, because this FanFic has now reached over 2,000 views in total! I really appreciate everyone reading what I've written, and hope Scaretalia continues to be enjoyable to read! Thank you, and don't forget to review! I love reading what everyone has to say and what they think is happening!_


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N: **_*blows out unsettled breath* I was kind of late posting this - I had a busy Friday, and intended to post earlier today, but Saturday was busy as well... However, it's finally here, and the awkward note I left it on in Chapter 12 can finally be cleared. _

_Just a quick shout out to **MindfulThoughtlessness**, who has also consistently reviewed Scaretalia - thank you very much!_

_Here it is, then; Chapter 13 of Scaretalia!_

* * *

There was a slight, unsettling shake in America's hand as he faced the gun's nose towards Russia. The feverish look remained in his eyes, and there was sweat on his brow. England stood between them, the only obstacle the bullet would face if America fired in that very moment.

"You had a gun this whole time?" Russia looked offended.

"Of course I did," America snapped. "The moment you invited us here I was suspicious. I would've brought more than a handgun had England not intervened at the time."

"I honestly think you should put the gun away," England begged.

"You brought a weapon into my house with possible intentions to use it," Russia said incredulously. "This was supposed to be a fun night, but now I'm at gunpoint, most of my guests and household have gone missing, and England is sober."

"Please don't measure a night out by how much I drink," England's face flushed from embarrassment.

"Say it how it is, Russia," America's eye twitched. "Tell me how both you and Belarus have been disposing of everyone."

"What?" Russia's face fell.

"This is how I see it," America said carefully. "You have enemies amongst us, and tonight a lot of us made enemies with Belarus. Italy was taken down by Belarus in the bathroom, and she left him there to arrive at the lounge we were in. That was her way of saying she had knocked him out. Assuming Belarus did the clever thing, she hid him in the bathroom, and when you sent Lithuania to check if he was there, a seemingly empty bathroom was enough for him to confirm that Italy was not there. You deceived Lithuania and got Belarus to do the dirty work."

"This sounds very feeble," Russia said.

"Listen," America's finger slipped to the trigger and Russia froze. "Once you were out of the room after being accused, you needed to reconsider. It was easy for you to get rid of Lithuania, because no one was there as a witness, and he was only in the way. Both you and Belarus were taking people down. She targeted France, which probably meant you snuck to the east wing to separate the other three. Somehow, you got Japan away from Germany and China, because Ukraine never reported to having seeing him. You easily disposed of Japan, and then Germany went to the toilet with Latvia. I'll assume Ukraine probably left the room, which was when you next targeted China. However, you needed to get away before Germany and Latvia returned. There are so many rooms down here you could've hid in many. You hid in the library."

"The library?" England looked at America in confusion.

America nodded as if he were on a role. "You went in the room, but you didn't cover your tracks efficiently enough. Estonia entered the library, and whilst he didn't see you, it was a close enough shave. For a time, we thought Estonia was suspicious, but he was just investigating the room that you had entered. Once Estonia was asleep, you followed him and disposed of him, covering your tracks and getting rid of the one person suspicious of you."

"So, what happened to Germany and Latvia?" Russia asked, a challenge in his voice.

"That's simple," a smile spread across America's face. "After you attacked Estonia, you sent Belarus to get the crowbar, because it was a deadly weapon. On your way down the stairs, though, you encountered Germany and Latvia, but I and England were already gone by then to get the ladder. You deceived them and attacked Germany from behind. It wasn't hard for you to dispose of Latvia once Germany was out of the picture, but the fighting injured your arm."

"I'm sure I just did that now," Russia frowned.

"No, no – once Germany and Latvia were gone, it was easy," America's eyes were wild. "You believed Belarus would jump scare us and get rid of us there and then. However, when she failed to do so, you ended up getting trapped with us. The reason Ukraine isn't here now is because both you and Belarus intended to get rid of her at some point during the night."

"What's my motive?" Russia asked.

"You're motive is sick and twisted and is the reason Italy had to go first," America laughed. "You're motive is to become the most powerful country in the world; however, it's also your incestuous relationship with Belarus that started this."

"_What_?" Russia squinted at him.

"Italy obstructed Belarus at the dinner table when she wanted to sit next to you," America said. "You were talking to him, and she was jealous. In a fitful rage, she murdered him in the bathroom. When you found out, you were surprised at first, but then started to see the benefits. Getting rid of me and China would be one the best moves you could make to become the strongest nation in the world. Murder became easier as more people died, be it for convenience or for your goal. The Baltics had to die for your plan to work, and the pair of you saw Ukraine as an awkward barrier to your relationship. However, your plan went horribly wrong."

"Oh, did it?" Russia faked a look of surprise. America was too far gone to realise that, though.

"Yes," he breathed. "Belarus failed to kill us at the garage. We escaped. Shamed at the idea of failure, she sought us out whilst you hid in the west wing. However, we deceived her and she failed again. Her only option became to lie. In her desperation to be with you, Belarus pretended she had killed us. She didn't want you being angry with her failure and revoking your promise. Your plan was to now kill Ukraine, so in your anticipation to celebrate your victory, you ran down the hallway with Belarus not too far behind. However, you were stunned at the sight of us. You hadn't expected Belarus to lie for her love of you, and when you collided with me, you had to improvise with the usual terrified attitude against Belarus. We believed it, and it was only more effective because your actions confused your sister, from the sound of her voice. I don't know how you intended to kill us at this stage, but in her rage, Belarus got rid of your older sister and probably intended to do us in as well. You, who were subduing your attitude, tried to play our friend as you did with Germany, but Belarus was going all out at this stage. Your contradicting attitudes have led to this scene here, because Belarus killed the one person you could load your actions onto.

"It's over, Russia," America grinned. "I said I would be the hero and avenge my murdered friends, so this is what I'm doing."

"Except you've got it all wrong," Russia said.

America pulled the trigger. England threw himself to the floor as he heard the bullet rip through the air. Rolling over, he saw Russia had only just dodged to the side in an attempt to get out of the bullet's way. America reloaded the gun, but Russia was one step quicker. He jumped up and smashed America's hand with a kitchen faucet and the gun was sent clattering to the ground. America ducked under his arm and dived past, shoving England aside. Russia didn't hesitate. He pulled England to his feet and left the room.

England fell into a running pace beside him. "What do we do?"

"We get away from the psychopath," Russia's eyes were wide.

Never once did they run in a direct straight line. Another shot was fired. England looked in horror as the bullet pinged into the wall nearby him and ricocheted further down the hallway, resting to a stop on the ground.

"My whole house is bulletproof and for a good reason," Russia explained, when England looked at him in horror.

Russia suddenly dashed into the library, and England almost ran past the room. He doubled back and ran inside. He followed Russia into the maze of bookshelves, where they rested to a stop, hidden amongst the books.

"Why did we go in here?" England asked.

"How far are you willing to go?" Russia asked and looked at him pointedly.

"Against America?" England panicked. "I-I don't know."

"Do you think he would shoot you?" Russia looked sincere.

"He nearly did," England frowned. "What's wrong with him?"

"Honestly?" Russia looked sympathetic. "He's scared, paranoid, watches too many horror films, it's Hallowe'en tomorrow, and he's a little feverish."

"Feverish?" England gasped.

"You didn't notice?" Russia frowned. "He looked a little pasty this entire time. That's why I wanted to stay in the little lounge as well as eat a large, hot meal. I went out to meet you guys, and he was _not _coping well in the cold.

"I-I didn't…"

"I saw you guys come in here," America cooed from across the library.

Instantly, Russia and England fell silent. However, Russia gave England a pointed look. Swallowing, England nodded, hoping this was a good decision.

Like two ninjas, he and Russia crept along past the bookshelves. Despite his size, Russia was stealthily silent. England assumed that was from years of managing to avoid Belarus like a boss. His new ally kept peering in through the bookshelves, checking America's progress. He suddenly motioned for England to stop walking, but moved further down their aisle, always checking through the slight gap in the books. America hadn't bothered to turn on the lights when he'd come in, but the wide open door shone the light on his back, which gave England and Russia a chance to see him.

Further down the aisle, Russia made pushing motions against the bookshelf he stood near and held up his hand with three fingers. England stared at him, alarmed, until he received a pointed look. He had signed up for this. Keeping an eye on Russia, he watched him count down three. When Russia's third finger went down, he pushed against the bookshelf he stood near, throwing his full weight into it, and watched it start to topple.

"What the…?" he heard America exclaim, just as the bookshelves began to fall in a domino effect.

"Come on!" Russia yelled to England as he ran for the door.

There were gun shots aimed at where Russia's voice had been, but England pressed forward and saw that he made it out of the room. He staggered out of the room, dust flying from the collapsing bookshelves. The door was slammed shut behind him and he turned to see Russia locking it with a key.

They listened to the crashes inside as well as several other gunshots. Taking a step back, Russia breathed a sigh of relief. England leant against the wall and tilted his head back.

"Let's get that ladder," Russia gasped, looking strained. "Why did you want to get into the loft anyway?"

"We were hoping we'd have better communication there," England replied. "If that's not the case, there'd be no point going there."

"No, there could be better signal," Russia nodded. "Who are you calling?"

"Well, I don't know anymore," England grimaced. "I think I'll call Canada and tell him his brother's lost his bloody mind. I don't know what he'll do, but I'm sure his calming voice might ease America's fevered mind."

Russia nodded, and they awkwardly staggered down the hallway. England frowned, concerned about his unsteady movements, but walked alongside him nevertheless. Russia kept a constant eye out for Belarus, and even England was being weary of both Belarus and America. There were suddenly so many dangers in Russia's house that England wasn't sure what the most dangerous was.

"I'm worried about Belarus being in the same house as that madman," Russia attempted to keep conversation flowing. "If she encounters him, he'll shoot her, because he thinks she's in on it."

"You're not… you know," England frowned.

"Of course not," Russia shook his head, and then leant against the wall in pain. "She just likes me way too much. However, neither of us are involved with these disappearances."

"How do you know, Russia?" England admitted. "We're the only four left…"

"A brother usually has a good instinct about his little sister, if he has one," Russia smiled knowingly. "There's just something inside me that's telling me Belarus is not the one. Big sisters are more unpredictable, but don't hold my accusations against me, da?"

England nodded. "Now let's see what's wrong with your leg?"

"It's nothing," Russia said defensively. "Let's get to that ladder."

"OK, then, if I kick your leg, you're going to be fine?"

"Please don't kick my leg," Russia looked concerned.

"Let me see it, then," England folded his arms. "If you have any injuries, let me know about them. I need to be aware of everything when making plans that could include you."

Russia nodded, and relented, turning his leg to show England the damage done.

"This is supposed to be a comedy," England complained. "He got you with the gun."

"It feels like it," Russia scowled. "I can walk. It hurts, but I can walk. Maybe even run. Besides, it's also considered a horror."

"Fine," England frowned. "But… if you need support… I can… help you walk."

Russia laughed. "Don't worry. I've survived so many things that a shot to the leg is minor. It hurts, sure, but whatever, da? Nothing I can't handle."

England nodded and they continued down the hallway until they reached the entrance hall. The floor was bare. The ladder was gone. Both stood and stared at the empty spot where the ladder had been.

"It's gone," England stated, knowing it was obvious, but needing it said aloud nevertheless.

"Belarus," Russia pinched the bridge of his nose. "Belarus took it."

* * *

**A/N: **_England and Russia be breaking the fourth wall. Actually, true to comedic structure, there's just one problem after another. I wonder how England and Russia are going to do this? They've lost America, and Belarus is still on the loose... Find out in Chapter 14 - don't forget to leave a review if you have a comment! I love hearing my reader's opinions!_


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N: **_Here I am, posting another chapter of Scaretalia. For all those suddenly thinking: "Wow, another chapter? This is rather impressive of the writer all of a sudden" this a treat for you guys, as it's my birthday - cake makes everyone happy, apart from those who can't eat it! However, I also want to warn any readers that I'm going away on the 28th (basically tomorrow) and won't be back until the 7th of August, which means there won't be a Scaretalia chapter until then. I'm not leaving , I promise you that. I love this site, and the community is very nice; I'm just on a ten day holiday and will most definitely be back. For now, though, Chapter 14 shall suffice. I'm not sure anyone will, but you could even save this chapter and pretend I posted it on the Friday, so that you don't have to wait as long in between - although once you've got it on your screen, you may as well read it; it's only me who does weird things like conserving chapters..._

_Anyway, Chapter 14 is here and ready to read. Seeing as the theme of this Author's Note is birthdays, it was Netherlands's yesterday. I was rather pleased to have a birthday next to one of the Hetalia characters, as sad as that is, so late happy birthday to Netherlands. I hope his siblings gave him birthday money._

* * *

The little alarm clock in Russia's study began to beep, signalling the arrival of midnight. It had been a collaborated decision that, after the disappearance of the ladder, England and Russia would retreat to the latter's study in the west wing, and hide out there for a period of time. England couldn't believe he'd stayed a full five hours at Russia's house and was still alive _and _sober. However, he hadn't anticipated the night to get as dark and deadly as it now had.

"We need to find Belarus," Russia was saying, and England glanced towards him. "Wherever she is, she's got what we want. That ladder is our only chance of survival."

"It's like he's bloody possessed," England sighed. "Happy Hallowe'en, by the way."

"You too," Russia murmured, as he drew a quick sketch.

"What's that you're drawing?" England walked over and looked over his shoulder.

"The levels of my house," Russia said. "Ground and top. I'm trying to theorise where Belarus may be… She won't be in the loft, because I have the key for that."

_So, even if we had got the ladder there, our efforts would have been futile, _England thought, reflecting on how proud he and America had been when carrying the ladder down the east wing hallway.

Russia drew a circle in one room. "That's where America was when we left him. There are some possible places where Belarus would've gone, but I think the most obvious is her room."

"Her room?" England glanced at him, unsettled.

"Yes," Russia's face was grave. "If she's in there, we're going to have to be very careful with how we go about these things."

"What should the plan be?" England asked.

"How tall are you?" Russia asked, and turned in his chair to assess England.

"Oh, about five nine," England shrugged. "Why?"

"It means you can fit through windows," Russia said casually.

"You're really going to need to describe this plan to me before we pull it off," England frowned, worrying about where this was going.

"OK… it begins like this…" Russia tapped Belarus's room with his pencil.

England found himself in an armoury not too long later. Russia was picking out pieces of equipment, but the fantastic amount of weapons kept in one room made him anxious. Russia suddenly came out of nowhere and held what looked like bungee jumping equipment in front of him. He shrugged and then nodded.

"Put that on," he instructed, and England did as told, strapping the suit to himself.

"Will I need a helmet?" he joked.

"Yes," Russia threw one on his head, and he adjusted it swiftly.

"Am I sky diving or something?" he frowned. "Will I really need this?"

"You're climbing across a building," Russia handed him rope. "You'll need all of this."

"What's the rope for?" England asked uncertainly.

"Attach it to the hooks of the bungee belt, and make sure it's securely tied on," Russia said.

England did exactly as told.

"You'll be using it to scale the side of the building," Russia explained. "It's old, so the architects made it really elaborate. There are all sorts of stone hooks and holds you can use to attach the rope to. Remember, though, that you only need to travel to Belarus's window. If you fall, it's not the end of the world – the snow below will cushion your fall."

"I'm not sure that's how it works…" England muttered, but kept the rest of the rope coiled around his arm.

Swiftly, Russia checked his equipment, and then nodded, satisfied. "I think you're good to go."

"What are you doing, again?" he replied moodily.

"The only reason you're doing that part is because you can fit through windows whereas I'm too big," Russia said. "Also, because this is my sister we're dealing with, da? I can talk to her, distract her, and you'll get the ladder out of her room. Remember to tie it to yourself to make sure it doesn't fall."

"Yes, yes," England rolled his eyes. "I'm also doing this because you've injured your arm and have a bullet in your leg…"

"Sorry, didn't catch that?" Russia glanced at him.

_You weren't meant to, _England thought.

"I'm anxious as a lark and frightened to death," he said instead.

"You English use some really strange metaphors," he commented. "No matter. Let's do this plan of ours."

He nodded, and they left the armoury. England noted how careful Russia was with locking it and didn't blame him. There were enough guns in that room alone to equip a small army.

They retraced their steps down the west wing hallway. There seemed to be no signs of America, thankfully, and instead they made their way upstairs. Rather than barrel straight into Belarus's room, they headed into the room next door. Russia locked the door quietly shut behind him.

"That's a precaution for your safety," he added. "OK – lock the door when I leave, da? I'll unlock the window in Belarus's room if it's locked. If she and the ladder aren't in there, I'll come back and get you."

England nodded and watched Russia leave the room. He did just as told and locked the door behind him.

Russia paused in front of Belarus's bedroom. He took a deep breath, and then knocked.

"Big brother Russia?" Belarus opened the door and looked amazed to see him. "You ran from me earlier."

"Yes, and I'm very sorry," he lied, spying the ladder leaning against the wall. "I just came to apologise."

"You fell on your arm," she commented. "May I take a look?"

Russia casually swept into the room, stretching both arms. "They feel fine to me."

He turned and saw her looking at him suspiciously.

"Is everything OK?" he swallowed nervously.

"Um, yeah, it's just… you never come into my room through choice," she shrugged and closed the door.

Russia nodded and looked out the window. He noticed a lock at the bottom and the top and started picking at the one of the bottom.

"Russia, what are you doing?" she walked over. "I want to see your arm."

He spun round and smiled at her. "Sure."

He flung his arm out in front of her and instantly regretted it. He sucked in a loud breath, and leant his other hand on the lock. Belarus rolled up his sleeve and studied his arm carefully. The window seemed impossible to open. Russia left her to it and glanced over his shoulder to see it was old and seemingly unusable. He curled his fist around and tugged at the lock.

"I think you've broken your arm, big brother," Belarus commented.

"Oh, really?" he replied, distracted, as he focused on the window lock – England depended on him getting the window open.

"Big brother, you also look like you've taken a bullet wound," Belarus sounded suddenly more eerie. "Does that mean you can't be running around all the time…?"

Russia swallowed and paused. "I can still run."

"How I about I inspect your leg as well, Russia?" she said. "I can be a good doctor for – what are you doing?"

"I'm hot," Russia lied. "I want fresh air."

"Take off that coat and scarf then," she took a step back and put her hands on her hips. "No wonder you're boiling."

Russia didn't like that idea one bit. "No – I like them both too much to let go."

"It's always _Ukraine's_ stuff that you like so much, big brother!" she suddenly ranted and he looked at her in alarm, then continued with the window. "Why don't you ever notice me? You always say how you want friends and company to get rid of your loneliness – I can read it in your eyes – but I'm right here, big brother. I've _always _been right here, just wanting you to notice me, and when you came in here I really thought-"

Suddenly, the window lock snapped out of place and Russia flung the windows open. A gust of window heaved its way into the room accompanied by a loud, sickening thud.

"Bollocks!" England snapped, and Russia peered out to see him swinging precariously from the rope, a red mark on his forehead where the window hit.

"Russia, what was that?" Belarus asked.

"I hit a bird," he turned to her.

She glowered at him. "And _birds _say 'bollocks' in an _English accent_?"

"Oh, no, that was me," Russia lied through his teeth. "Now that England is gone, I want to… um… copy the way he swore. Because it was funny."

He swallowed and her gaze bore into his soul. He could feel the sweat on his forehead as the situation became worse.

"As in… eh, bollocks! Ought to… get myself a… err, cup of rosy now."

"That didn't sound English at all, _wanker_," England hissed from outside.

Belarus, fortunately, didn't hear that remark from the wind, however, she started walked towards the window.

"Where are you going?" Russia asked, nervous.

"I want to see where the bird landed," she replied. "And if it died."

Russia knew that, as soon as Belarus looked outside, she would see England, and they would both be dead or tortured. He racked his brains and then closed his eyes and blew out a breath.

As she walked past him with a furrowed brow, Russia pulled his younger sister into a hug.

"What?" she blinked, surprised.

"I'm just so glad to have such wonderful sisters, da?" Russia forced a bright smile. "Say, the dress your wearing is the one I got you, right?"

A disturbing blush crept across her face. "Y-yes. It is."

"So…" Russia tried to think. "Do you remember those gloves I gave you to accompany it?"

"G-gloves?" she frowned. "I… can find them."

_No you can't, _Russia thought. _They don't exist._

"Just… come," she panicked, clearly not wanting to upset him from not using his gifts. "It should be in my wardrobe somewhere."

Russia followed Belarus and she opened a large wardrobe with shelves and drawers and lots of places where a small pair of gloves could be hiding, and therefore a lot of time for England to grab the ladder and go.

England had had a hard time adjusting the rope, and had slipped several times due to the thin icy layer that covered the roofs of Russia's house. The wind didn't help, buffeting him and threatening to whip the rope away from the building. However, England tied efficient knots as well as using his general abilities as a spy to sneak into the room. He was the best of the best when it came to this. It only made sense now that he should do the sneaking and Russia do the talking.

England, head sore from the window bash and offended from Russia's poor display of his accent, lifted himself quietly onto the window ledge and sat there in a gentle crouch. He saw the ladder propped against the wall just a little way from the window. He slipped into the room, quiet as a mouse, the very James Bond of the real world.

England smiled to himself in triumph as he stood in Belarus's room.

"I really can't find these gloves," Belarus was saying.

"Oh, that's such a shame," Russia milked it. "I really thought they suited you… Do you remember what they looked like?"

"Um, of course I do!" she gasped.

"Oh good – then I'm sure you remember the fur on the cuffs?" Russia said, and England wondered if they were being cruel to Belarus just to get a ladder.

Then again, he was always cruel to his younger sibling, Sealand.

"They were as white as snow," Russia reminisced just as England neared the ladder.

He closed his hands around both sides, lifting it with care, and hearing Belarus's desperate searching in the wardrobe. Russia took one step back and smiled at England's progress before turning his attention back to Belarus.

Suddenly the ladder, which hadn't been properly buckled when America handled it earlier, slipped out and knocked everything from Belarus's desk, sending everything crashing to the floor.

* * *

**A/N: **_That probably had to be one of the worst places to leave a Fic before going on holiday. Aren't I cruel? Have fun desperately hoping if Russia and England will be OK. I, in the mean time, will be putting my feet up for ten days and closing my eyes for a nice period of relaxation. Thank you for following my story and reading it - Chapter 15 will be with you when I get back (hopefully). _


	16. Chapter 15

**A/N: **_Hello, everybody! Chapter 15 is finally here after my previous vacation. I know last time I left everything on a really awkward note, bordering terror for England. However, we can now find out what fate both befalls England and Russia! Enjoy!_

_By the way, thank you everyone for allowing this FanFiction reach over 3,000 views! It's very nice to see that many people looking at this little story!_

* * *

England watched as paper, pens, pencils, make-up, a desk light, a photo of Russia, a flower in a delicate, pink glass vase and a book tumbled to the floor, snapping, breaking and smashing as they made impact. He retracted the ladder, but he knew it was too late.

"What was that?" Belarus said from the wardrobe.

"It was nothing but the wind," Russia said edgily.

"That was more than the-"

"Wait!" Russia cried. "Belarus! Do you hear that?"

"You're scaring me, Russia," Belarus said. "Get out of the way and let me see what's happening."

England hastily unclipped himself and dived under her bed just as she stormed out of the wardrobe. He heard her shriek in dismay and saw her fall to her knees and lift the photo of Russia. He saw Russia's boots as he joined his sister as she lamented over her precious brother's portrait photo.

"Oh, dear," Russia sighed. "Maybe it was the wind…"

He crouched and started brushing up the vase into a pile with his hands. That was when he made eye contact with England. His eyes widened in horror and he glanced towards a sobbing Belarus who was slamming the window shut, too distressed to notice the cord that was hanging out. Luckily, it didn't break, but just got a little flattened by the force of the window shutting.

"Never mind about the photo frame," Russia said anxiously. "We can just get you a new one."

"And the vase, Russia?" she sniffed.

"We can also get a new one," he said. "Or one of the Baltics can handcraft one for you, da? It's not the end of the world, that's what I'm-"

England watched him gag as she grabbed the collar of coat in a balled fist. She reached round and unclasped his coat, throwing it to the side. Russia frowned, turning his head to where she cast his coat.

"What are you-"

Belarus grabbed his scarf and tried wrenching that away.

"No," he protested. "I'm fine-"

"This is why you're so hot, Russia," she growled. "If you hadn't opened the window then my precious photo of you would be intact."

"This is a paradox," Russia choked, persisting with the scarf. "You hate on me for breaking the photo of me you love?"

"That's what love is, big brother," she murmured.

_Do I really want to see this_? England wondered, and glanced towards the closed the door.

Russia tugged his scarf out of his sister's hands and held it protectively around his face and neck.

"Belarus, I'm sorry, but please calm down," he begged.

She walked round and crouched before him, dark blue eyes intense.

_Russia looks just about ready to piss himself_, England thought, and his sympathy towards Belarus started to ebb away.

"Do you know what night it is, big brother?" she reached out and held his face in her hands.

"No, but I really hope that _bird _survives despite my efforts," Russia muttered, and started crawling away from his sister, moving backwards.

A grin spread across her face and followed him, crawling forwards on her hands and knees. England glanced towards the door again, and wondered whether he could get away, knowing that Russia's comment was meant more for him than Belarus.

"It's Hallowe'en, big brother," Belarus said, and England saw her leaning over Russia, who had hit the wall and looked horrified. "It's the night when the spirits are the most unsettled. My spirit is restless, big brother Russia, and I need you to calm it."

Russia met England's eye briefly, and England knew it was now or never, whilst she was so distracted. Carefully, he angled himself to get out of the bed safely and silently. He met Russia's gaze again and offered an encouraging smile.

"Big brother, you keep looking towards my bed," she whispered. "I realise now. You're too shy to say you want me. It seems the Westerners are long gone and Ukraine isn't here. That's what this is, isn't it? You want _my _attention."

Russia shook his head, turning his head away from his sister, looking on the verge of tears. England, who was out from under the bed and had the ladder in his arms, knew he couldn't leave Russia like this.

"I'm not shy, big brother," Belarus was saying as England approached the shelf where she kept her Russia photo album. "I really want this. I don't care how you treat me tonight. You can finally look upon me as the one you want without hesitation."

England reached up and pulled the photo album down, balancing the ladder on his back, which he'd quickly tied to his bungee cord suit. He could feel Russia's questioning gaze on his back.

"I _want _you touch me, big brother," Belarus murmured to an uncomfortable Russia. "I _want _you to kiss me; I _want _you to make me-"

"Hey," England said feebly and swallowed when she turned in horror to look at him.

"What are you doing in here?" she hissed. "I thought you were gone."

"Same," Russia said meekly, but there was gratitude written across his face.

"As… Russia's... um... hmm. Oh, God... geez... ah. What... huh. Well."

Both Belarus and Russia waited patiently as England swallowed back his pride, rolled back his shoulders and searched for the right words to say.

"..._friend_, I can't sit here and watch you… defile him," England said awkwardly, and was pleased when that provoked a grateful smile on Russia's face. "Therefore, I am going to burn all these-" he opened the book and flicked through. "-horribly suggestive photos of your brother."

"There's no fire nearby, English bastard," Belarus faced him aggressively as Russia cowered in the corner. "How are you going to burn it?"

England snorted. "Every good spy makes sure they have the smallest items with them to get them out of any unpredicted scrape. And a good gentleman knows when the show is over."

He pulled a lighter from his pocket and held it before her, feeling the heat of the flame. He lingered it close to the photo album. With sudden speed, Belarus pulled a knife from the folds of her dress and hurled it at him. England jumped aside, flicking the lighter off, and watched the knife pin into the wall where he'd stood, wobbling from the force of the throw. When he turned, he saw a furious Belarus with a crowbar heading straight towards him. He leapt aside again and watched her splinter the bedroom door with sheer, physical strength. England's heart faltered, but only for a brief moment.

England ran across the room just as Russia was getting to his feet and pulling on his coat. With the speed of a cheetah, England clipped the bungee cord back to himself, threw open the windows and swung outside into the blizzard and cold.

"Russia, hold on!" he yelled, offering more rope and Russia methodically slipped through the window whilst Belarus struggled to the get the crowbar out of the door behind them.

"I can't," he said with a smile. "I'm too heavy, England. I'll just pull you down. We'll meet at my study, if you can."

England watched in horror as Russia pushed off from the window ledge and fell down in the snow below. He watched him struggle to his feet and offer the thumbs up from down below.

"I'll see you there!" Russia waved cheerfully and started casually clipping his coat closed as he trudged through the snow.

"You bastard!"

England turned his head to see Belarus glaring at him from her window. The crowbar was held in one hand and her other was on the window ledge. Russia's face fell, and England started levering himself along the rope that held him between the two rooms. The fall looked too horrible to take, and England was certain only Russia could survive something so extreme.

He glanced over his shoulder to see Belarus had returned to the window, sawing at the rope that held him in place with her knife. Frantically, he started pulling himself along.

"England, let yourself fall!" Russia called from below.

"You're no better!" Belarus screamed. "Cheating and deceiving and pretending you loved me! With your English slut right underneath my nose!"

"What?" they both glanced at her, but there was no discussing anything with her. The rope was almost giving way.

"Unbuckle yourself," Russia glanced back upwards, and took a couple of steps forward. "I'll catch you."

"I-I can't," England grimaced, hating how this looked to Belarus. "I don't… I don't really want to."

"I wonder how hard your head will impact with the building when I get this rope gone," Belarus laughed menacingly. "I wonder if you'll die instantly or bleed out of your head for the rest of the night…"

"England, I'll catch you," Russia insisted. "I'm your _friend_. You even said so yourself."

England looked down at the Russian, his scarf flapping in the wind and coat billowing. His hair was sort of blowing in his face, but his eyes were sincere, and although he'd always thought he was a complete and utter psychopath, as well as evil incarnated with enough demon within him to break Busby's chair just by sitting on it, Belarus was worse. He glanced over to see the thick rope almost completely sawed through from her dagger, and her wild eyes trained on him.

Usually, he would never do anything so risky. He would leave that to America. He would leave that to anyone else so long as it wasn't him.

"It could be worse," he muttered under his breath. "Japan and Hungary could be hiding with their cameras poised..."

Breathing in deeply, England untied his bungee suit from the rope holding him in place and let gravity take control. His stomach lifted inside of him as he dropped down. There was a loud protest from Belarus as he fell.

"Oh, wait a second…" he heard Russia say from below as he fell.

England fell on Russia. Russia's knees buckled and they collapsed in the snow.

"I thought you said you'd bloody catch me!" England hissed.

"That's what I said," Russia groaned. "I forgot you had the ladder. When combined, you're not as light as I'd thought you'd be…"

"You bastard!" Belarus screamed and lobbed the knife at him.

England rolled to the side, screaming as he did so, and lay on his back in the snow. Belarus's face was a mask of horror. England glanced and saw an ashen expression on Russia's face as the knife stuck out of his leg.

"I… honestly don't know what to say," England winced. "I… suppose… this is meant to be a comedy?"

"No, England," Russia planted a hand on his head and used him to pull himself to his feet.

England rubbed his head and neck from the force Russia had pushed down on him, but also stood. He glanced over his shoulder and was glad to see that the ladder was OK.

He heard a sickening noise as Russia yanked the dagger from his thigh and chucked it into the snow.

"Big brother, I'm sorry!" Belarus gaped from above. "I-I meant to hit _him_ instead! I'm sorry!"

"No, Belarus," Russia said with gritted teeth as he started walking, tugging England along with him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ever decided to throw this party in the first place."

"This is all your fault!" Belarus yelled at England. "If you weren't such a bastard, I wouldn't have thrown the knife. It's all because you love my brother's-"

England stopped listening to her fowl choice of language and chose not to reply to _that. _He hurried after Russia, who was moving awkwardly and stiffly. Belarus shrieked in frustration from behind, but there were no noises to indicate she was coming down after them - her windows slammed shut. England walked beside Russia, amazed he hadn't collapsed at this stage.

Blood was staining his trouser leg from where the knife went in, but he continued to stride along.

"Won't she wait for us at the front door?" England asked fearfully, deciding he never wanted to encounter Belarus ever again.

His palms were sweating and his heart was racing. He was usually preparing to scare America as he usually did on Hallowe'en, but America was probably winning that role where they currently stood. It seemed this Hallowe'en had always meant to be that little bit more unusual compared to all the previous ones, starting from the moment Russia sent the letter. He didn't like being afraid, so his current situation was frustrating.

"That's where we're one step ahead," Russia muttered. "I left my study window unlocked and slightly open. We'll get in through there."

England had never seen him do that, but after being told the crazy plan, he had been preoccupied with many other thoughts and observations.

"Is your leg OK?" he asked awkwardly.

"Of course not."

"Oh, yeah," England glanced at Russia, who had a clear limp at this stage. "Thanks for… taking a knife as well as potential sexual harassment for me."

"No problem," Russia seemed a little calmer at this stage. If they hadn't just gone through that awful scene, he would almost say Russia was acting _too_ calm.

England nodded just as they reached a window that was slightly open. Russia opened it wider. England detached the ladder from his back as Russia climbed in through. They passed the ladder between one another, and then England hauled himself through the window. Russia closed it behind him and they both sat down in the study, which was freezing with some snow blown inside.

"Where's that photo album?" Russia asked after a pause.

"The photo album?" England frowned. "Oh, right, _that_. You know, I think I dropped it when she came at me with the crowbar. I think I dropped my lighter as well."

"Shame," he sighed. "I wanted to burn it."

England glanced at him with a frown.

"I didn't realise she took photos of me without me realising," Russia worried. "I always try to forget she's completely obsessive."

"Russia, we need to do something about your leg," England sighed, deciding to change the subject.

He'd heard enough about Russia and his incestuous relationship. England believed he'd seen enough evidence to know it wasn't true on Russia's part, just Belarus's. Whatever had triggered that kind of relationship was beyond him, but he preferred to stay out of it. His involvement with it tonight was too much for this century. His British nature meant, like a true gentleman, he would politely pretend it had never happened.

Russia frowned. "I'll be fine."

"No, you won't," England turned to him. "You're still bleeding from the leg shot, your arm is broken, and that knife wound is bleeding _a lot_. Use your scarf or something to slow the blood flow."

"I can't use this," Russia tightened the scarf around his neck. "But I do know where some bandaging would be."

"Well, we need it before you pass out from blood loss," England said, strapping the ladder to his back again. "Where is it?"

"The east wing bathroom."

* * *

**A/N: **_After writing this scene, I was tempted to change the rating of Scaretalia to 'M', but then, nothing **graphic** actually happened, so it didn't seem like it needed anything more than 'T'. Either way, Belarus is a naughty girl with a disturbed, dirty mind. I read the first 'House of Night' book when I was eleven or twelve - I'm not one for bashing books, but if anyone else has read them (I persevere for the terrible drama and the sake of seeing it end) then you'll know that those are just crudely terrible and are still aimed at teens, so I think Scaretalia's safe to remain 'T' rated._

_As for the ending of this chapter, it's always on the **other side of the house**! It can never be just next door to the study - it **has** to be an effort to get to places nowadays, doesn't it? *sighs dramatically* What I want to know is why Russia doesn't have any back up first aid in his study? I guess he probably will stock it frequently if he makes it out of this alive. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, because I enjoyed writing it!_

_Before anyone asks, I actually don't hate any Hetalia characters - I rather like all of them, because they're all so unique! Despite her insanely crazy personality and the bad luck I've bestowed upon her in this Fic, I really like Belarus, so I hope nobody gets the wrong impression from this chapter! _

_Until next time! Upupupupupu~!_


	17. Chapter 16

**A/N: **_I feel like it's been a long time since I've posted Scaretalia, even though I'm fairly sure it's only been a week! The days have been going slow for me... _

_I baked some cookies yesterday. They were these plain, vanilla ones, all little circles, with a bit of icing dolloped messily on top by my sister. They taste great. If my sister hadn't been there, I might have even been inclined to add a bit of lemon! If anyone suddenly feels inspired by my small act of baking, I just searched "vanilla cookies", and it's the BBC Good Food recipe. It won't tell you the temperature your oven should be at, but I had my fan oven on for 180 d.C and they've turned out just right for me! Baked well but still soft! The only issue with this recipe is that it's a bit stick to actually use cutters to make interesting shapes, but circles did the job for me! My sister tried to put a heart made of icing sugar (just add water!) on one of them but it came out looking like something else, if you get what I mean..._

_Anyway, enough about my baking expeditions. Here's Chapter 16 of Scaretalia!_

* * *

Upon hearing the words, England frowned and wondered whether getting bandages for Russia was such a good idea. The east wing bathroom was where everything began, but it also meant passing the library which America had been brutally locked inside. However, Russia was looking considerably paler at this stage. England was sure Russia's arm wasn't the only thing broken, either, especially after the impressive catapult from the window, as well as England landing on him with the ladder.

"We'll take things slowly and carefully," he told the wearing down Russia. "There's no need to rush. The important thing right now is ensuring your survival."

"What about getting to the loft?" Russia asked, watching him pace as he himself leant against his desk.

"That can wait a little bit," England replied. "You have the key to the loft. Besides, I'm not one for abandoning someone in need. Even if you collapse, I'll drag you to that loft."

"What? Why?" Russia looked surprised.

"Because even from the start I didn't think you were behind these attacks," England admitted. "I was the one who talked everyone out of the idea. I didn't think you'd attack other countries because everyone would point the finger at you, and you'd have many other countries against you that wouldn't be worth it. I'll admit I was suspicious as to what you were up to when you sent those invites. Which leads me to the question all of us have been wondering. Why did you organise this?"

"I wanted company," Russia sighed. "Belarus and Ukraine were coming over as well because it was Hallowe'en, but Belarus scares me, and you can see why. I wanted other people nearby, because she often tones it down when there're others nearby. It was selfish, but in a way, I wanted a subtle security just from hanging out with all of you. However, everything started going horribly wrong when Italy went missing. I didn't know how to react. I locked you all in the room to keep you safe from Belarus, because she was mad at you and might have inflicted harm if she'd wanted to, but also because I didn't want them attacking me for something I didn't do. I wanted to bring Italy's killer to justice and prove that it wasn't me. However, I went off in a rant and never got to the bathroom in time. Everyone started disappearing and now I've lost my sister, Ukraine."

He looked miserable. England truly did feel sorry for Russia in that moment.

"We should go," he decided. "I suggest you lean on my shoulder. You're limping."

Russia nodded wearily. Awkwardly, he put an arm across England's shoulders and the two started walking. He wasn't light, but England could bear Russia's weight. He could tell walking was causing strain on him at this stage, because he had look of a wounded soldier trying to carry on for the last mile.

Carefully, they edged out of the study in that fashion, walking humbly down the hallway. England never would have thought it would be just him and Russia in the end. In his mind, he had believed that everyone would make it out and that it would turn out it was just Italy getting lost in Russia's unfamiliar house. He also never would have thought that he'd be supporting a country he had always been suspicious of, as they struggled along the west wing on their way to the east wing.

He desperately hoped Russia could make it. He wasn't sure what he'd do if Russia collapsed and wasn't able to continue. He didn't want to leave Russia on his own, for fear of either America or Belarus finding him, and he didn't want to encounter Belarus along the way. Both of them were in danger, but there was also something in England's mind that wouldn't go.

Who was the attacker?

It had come to the point where he just didn't know who to accuse. The attacker had to have been America, Belarus or Russia, because he was sure he wasn't doing it. However, he had been with America the entire time, and they had never split up. It wasn't America. Which meant it was either Belarus or Russia. Russia insisted he wasn't the one doing it, and England strangely couldn't help but believe him. The obvious choice was Belarus, but why would she endanger her brother's reputation in that way?

"Who do you think it is?" Russia asked dully, as if reading his mind.

"Hmm?" England glanced at him. "I don't really know."

"I'm not sure I entirely care anymore," Russia admitted, as they passed by the armoury in their slow pace. "So much has happened that I don't care… I honestly just want it to end one way or another, even if it means I suffer at the end. I brought this upon everyone and myself. I wonder if karma actually exists?"

He had a strangely vacant smile on his face and a wistful expression in his eyes. England, choosing to remain rational despite everything, ignored what Russia was saying and pressed forwards. He didn't want to face the end, he didn't want to surrender, and he most certainly didn't want to die at the hands of the attacker when he and Russia had gone through so much just to get to the place they were currently walking. It would be too much to lose at this rate. England refused to believe they were at a disadvantage, he refused to believe it could end so miserably, and he refused to think that something so light hearted could turn dark so quickly.

"If I collapse, would you leave me, England?" Russia asked, dazed.

"No," he replied resolutely. "I would drag you along by your feet if I had to get you to the bloody bathroom. Now, cut this sentimental crap, because I'm really not good at it. We'll make it out of here and the other nations we call to help us can deal with the attacker."

Russia nodded as they finally turned the corner. The hallway looked so long, but England was determined, and Russia was still able to continue. They weren't moving quickly. In a place where they were heavily threatened by Belarus's presence, England wanted to move slightly quicker, but was aware that Russia was no longer capable of doing so.

They weren't quiet anymore. The ladder kept rattling on his back as he supported Russia's unsteady movements. His footsteps were loud and clear, and Russia seemed to be dragging his feet along the floor, barely lifting them. Not only that, but they left a slight trail. There was a thin trail of blood running down Russia's leg from the knife wound, and England could tell it had been a deep wound. The blood had run past his boot and some had run over it, meaning there was a faded, bloodied print of the heel of Russia's boot. There was no more time for subtlety. England hadn't even bothered to remove the helmet from his head.

They moved along through the main entrance hall. There was no sign of Belarus. England worried she was already somewhere down the east wing, and that their route was blocked. However, Russia seemed oddly unconcerned and strangely serene. Perhaps the danger had sedated him and apathy towards the situation had developed? England wished he could feel that way, since his nerves were scattered and his heart was racing from the fear.

The storm had suddenly died. Although there was still too much snow to fly a plane away, England knew Russia wouldn't be able to make the walk to the planes. Ideally, they could camp out there and hide until the snow melted a little and they could contact others outside. However, England was aware that the "ideal" situation was beyond hope at this point. The blizzard raged outside, probably perfectly capable of carrying a grown man away to his demise. The east wing bathroom was their best chance.

They passed into the east wing. They were almost there. All they had to do was turn round another corner, walk halfway down the hallway and then they were at the bathroom. It seemed too simple and easy after everything that had happened. England strongly believed there was a catch, or something would go wrong. There was a terrible suspense that was suffocating England, but he was desperate to get to the bathroom.

They turned the corner and faced an empty hallway. Relief filled him, but at the same time, his heart thumped in terror of what he couldn't see...

"Maybe the attacker got America," Russia whispered hopefully, and England couldn't help but agree with him.

There were no sounds of gunshots. The alternative was that he had been crushed by the bookshelves and had died, but England didn't want to think of that. America was like... America was his ally, and that was as far as England would ever say about him... He may have turned against them, and even lost his senses, but England was still concerned about him. They paused before the library and saw that the lock had been entirely blown away, and that the door was left wide open.

"He's somewhere," England answered, unsure whether he was glad America had freed himself or worried, but forced them to keep walking before Russia made a comment or did anything.

They were so close to their destination that England was sure something would happen. Beforehand, when they'd been close to salvation, he hadn't expected anything. It was possible he was so highly drawn that he would be disappointed if nothing happened. The expectation was there, and it seemed to be with Russia as well, because he kept glancing around, even if looked like he was on sedatives.

They stopped before the east wing bathroom. The door was shut, the light was off, but it was there. England pushed open the door and turned on the light. It was empty. With a sigh of relief, Russia closed the toilet lid and sat down, stretching his legs out before him. England closed the door.

He opened the medical cabinet and located the said bandaging they'd so desired. There were even some scissors. He approached Russia and started wrapping some around his knee where the bullet had entered.

"Wait, did the bullet pass through your leg?" he asked, and Russia shook his head. "Alright, roll your trouser leg up."

Russia did exactly as told and England inspected the wound. He could see the bullet was still lodged in the back of Russia's knee.

"Brace yourself."

He held Russia's leg firmly with one arm. Russia looked up at the ceiling with a clenched jaw. England stood and rummaged through the medical cabinet and found a pair of tweezers. He turned towards Russia, who was still refusing to look at him, smiling, pained, at the ceiling. Approaching, he resumed the hold on Russia's leg, and then jammed the tweezers into the bullet wound. Russia made a noise of complaint from his throat, but England pressed on, clasping the bullet with the tweezers and firmly pulling them out. Russia gasped from the pain, but held his ground. England discarded the bullet and tweezers in the bin, and swiftly bound the bullet wound with the bandages.

For the knife wound, England deemed it would be fine if he tightly wrapped the next bandage round Russia's trouser leg. He did so, and there was little complaint.

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about a broken arm," he admitted, and Russia waved a hand.

"That should be fine," he said and rolled down his trouser leg. "I'm sure we can make it to the loft now."

"Oh, Russia, did you come down here?" they heard Belarus from outside.

Instantly, they both fell silent and allowed her to pass. Fortunately, she didn't notice the light from the bathroom. They watched her footsteps move past.

"Russia's sister," they heard America say from further down the corridor, and Russia's expression morphed into one of concern.

"You?" she sounded confused. "And there I was thinking Russia had gotten rid of you… I guess not."

"Your tricks end here," America replied.

"Is that a gun?" Belarus asked.

"Yeah, it is."

They heard a gunshot. Russia opened his mouth to speak, but England jammed a fistful of his scarf into his gob. He tried to stand, but England brought his elbow down on the knife wound. Russia's agony was muffled by the scarf, and more gun shots were heard.

"I'm sorry," England gawked. "I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do. Absolutely nothing. He has the gun, he has the advantage."

An awful silence followed. Russia's shoulders shook. England glanced at him to see he was taking shuddering breaths, but there was a look in his eyes that England preferred not to see.

They looked as someone stood before the door, the shadows of their feet just visible.

_This is it_, England thought, as a sudden serenity fell over him like a cloak. _It seems I wasn't disappointed after all. Russia will be shot down just like his sister, accused of crimes he didn't commit, and I'll go down with him, an apparent traitor. This must be how it really ends..._

He braced himself for what was coming next.

* * *

**A/N: **_I'll just casually end it there, for now, and leave the fate of both England and Russia to be interpreted until Chapter 17! Thank you for reading Scaretalia. I honestly couldn't have gotten this far without the support of everyone reading it! Remember, I love hearing everyone's reviews and what people have to say about Scaretalia. Thank you very much, and until next time!_


	18. Chapter 17

**A/N:** _Oh, my! I'm back, and I'm here with Chapter 17! I'm so awfully sorry for having left everyone with Chapter 16's cliffhanger, but I'm here now! I hope you enjoy this chapter and that Scaretalia is still enjoyable to read in general! I'm having a lot of fun writing this! Enjoy~_

* * *

England danced away from Russia just as the door flung open and America jumped in firing the gun. He stumbled backwards and fell into the bath, bashing his head on the wall behind. The helmet took the impact, so England felt surprisingly OK for once.

He scrambled out of the bath in time to see Russia jam his faucet into the barrel of America's gun just as the moron fired. The gun, unable to handle the bullet's passage being blocked, imploded from the force, sending the two staggering away from one another.

England winced as he saw blood spatter across the wall and America howled in pain. Russia shoved America aside and ran from the room. Seeing America turn towards Russia, England hurried forward and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket.

"You wanker," he snapped and brought his forehead towards America's.

There was a loud crack as America's glasses cracked as the heavy, plastic helmet made contact. The lenses shattered and alongside the frame, they fell to pieces on the ground. England wasn't sure, but there was a chance he had broken America's nose, because a lot of blood gushed from his former ally's nose.

"Where's Belarus?" Russia demanded. "What happened to her?"

"Bitch got away," America said and spat blood that had run into his mouth. "I saw the light was on and decided to take down the orchestrator and the traitor instead."

"Traitor?" England sputtered indignantly. "I am _no such thing_. Just the only normal one around here."

"You broke my magical stick," Russia glowered. "Usually it settles disputes, but your thick American skull seems to not have realised that England is still here and therefore I can't be the attacker."

"You're in on it!" America concluded. "I should've known there was a reason British actors are always the villains in my amazing Hollywood films."

"You're bloody stupid if you think I'm behind it," England snapped.

"There are two of us and one of you," Russia said. "Give up."

"You're injured and I could beat England any day," America boasted. "Besides, I've got a weapon."

"Your gun was destroyed when you tried to shoot with it blocked," Russia replied. "You don't have a weapon – unless you smuggled more arms inside my home without anyone realising?"

"The only person this gun belongs to is you, my dear Russia," America pulled a familiar gun from his jacket. "I found it in the lounge where you'd left it from the lovely Russian roulette surprise you tried to give us. I took it, because you never know when you need a spare gun."

He clicked the gun and faced it at Russia, who raised his hands. England didn't blame him. From this distance, there was no chance of America missing. England thought they both made a sad sight… America looked dishevelled and was covered in dust and scrapes, presumably from the library, and Russia looked on the verge of collapse. England lowered his head, hoping this wasn't the way it ended.

Russia watched the point of America's gun that was aimed at his head. He didn't dare move an inch, or lower his hands, no matter how much his arm was hurting.

"I never would have thought it would come to this," America said gravely. "You know how much damage this has caused and will cause? It's a never ending war between you and I for as long as we exist, I suppose."

"You're right about that," Russia murmured. "Belarus is OK?"

"For now," America shrugged. "She can probably live from this. For years she's been manipulated by your terrible ways. Once she has a better influence, things should improve."

"Mmm," Russia didn't know what to say to that. "As long as she lives…"

"So, you see?" America looked smug. "The hero always wins. I guess you picked the wrong side, Russia, and whilst you had a good run what with picking off powerful places like Germany, it's the end. I don't have to shoot you. You can surrender and pay for your crimes. I actually don't _want _to shoot you. I'm not a killer, just a much needed bringer of justice. A hero."

"I surrender," Russia replied. "But why did you try to shoot Belarus without offering her justice? Are you really going to let me live? Or is my death just going to be added to the list of _accidents_ America has committed across this world."

"Your death, even if accidental, won't be too missed, Russia," America sighed. "You and that trai-"

England brought the ladder down on the back of America's head. He fell to his knees and England jumped over him with sudden energy. Russia started, surprised, but England tugged him along and they hurried down the hallway.

"I'm not a bloody traitor," England scowled.

Despite his injuries, England's sudden act of heroism was enough to keep Russia going. He felt his feet suddenly moving and raced down the hallway with England.

"To the loft?" he asked, and England nodded in response.

They turned the corridor, just as a gunshot was fired. They heard the rapid sound of America's feet pounding against the floor as he went in full pursuit.

Just then, Russia's injured knee buckled and he fell down.

England stopped instantly in his tracks, and turned, hauling Russia back up. Russia glanced over his shoulder as England helped support him as they ran to see America rounding the corner. He wasn't wearing any glasses anymore, so all three of his shots he fired missed, flying past them and heading down the west wing hallway.

England sharply turned towards the staircase and they fled up the stairs. Russia worried, as he knew America was moving at a faster pace than them, but he didn't want to let England down. They reached the top of the stairs and turned to the right, where the loft was.

This was the moment England had been waiting for, and now he was unsure whether they'd make it to the loft and survive. They hurried past Belarus's room, Ukraine's room, and the moment when he and America first discovered the loft suddenly seemed long ago.

They charged down that last bit of hallway, and reached the loft. England swung the ladder in place, and they balanced it before the loft. He could hear America thundering up the stairs. Russia hurriedly climbed the ladder, and whipped the key to the loft from his other glove. Just then, America skidded round the corridor, took a rushed aim, and a fired.

England dropped to the ground, but watched the bullet graze the side of Russia's hand. He ignored the thick, red line that formed and swung the loft door open. He scrambled up into the loft, and England started following, his heart racing from sudden terror.

He turned on the ladder, to see America reaching for his foot. Russia pulled him into the loft and reached for the door to close it. America was just there, taking aim once more, when suddenly, a crowbar connected with his temple and sent him sprawling across the floor. There was a moment of silence. America didn't move, and he appeared to be unconscious.

Belarus appeared within sight, cautiously walking into view and looking up at them with wide, fearful eyes.

"Big brother? England?" she said, eyes wide. "What's going on?"

* * *

Germany was still in the same position. His arms ached from being tightly wrapped behind his body, and his eyes were beginning to grow heavy from being exhausted. Somehow, Italy had managed to keep up consistent chatter, talking about where he thought Japan, England, America and Russia were. There had been an alarming moment when Ukraine had been brought into the room, panicked and unsure of what was happening.

"I bet Japan is fine," China worried. "I usually don't care what he's up to-"

"Oh, that's a lie!" France exclaimed. "Face it, China. You still see Japan as a younger brother after all these years."

"No!" China protested. "Well, maybe… a little. Look, he can be such a prick at times and he definitely doesn't treat me with the type of respect I should get, aru. However, yes. In him, I still see the little boy that I first met when he was wandering around alone, and he still has a certain naivety to him. War changed him, and that makes me sad, but… I don't really know, aru."

"That was very sweet," Ukraine commented.

"I'm usually not," China sighed. "But I think it's finally safe to say that I miss him and am worried about him, aru. It's just strange that he's not here with the rest of us, aru."

"I agree," Italy said cheerfully.

"I just wanted to sleep," Estonia said. "I can't sleep sitting up like this. I kind of wish Mr Russia would hurry and take this attacker down."

"I hope Mr Russia's OK," Lithuania sighed.

"My poor little brother and sister," Ukraine sobbed. "They're still out there!"

"Oh, please don't cry," France sympathised. "They will be fine."

"I-I know," Ukraine sniffed. "But I get so worried about them! They're so innocent and young and I always worry they won't get by if there's the knowledge that big sister Ukraine has been attacked…"

"I don't think they're as innocent as you see them as, aru..." China replied.

"Whenever I see their faces I feel the love of an older sister and I just want to pull them into the biggest hug ever," she sighed. "I always see them as little children, and it hurt me so much when my boss fell out with Russia's and we could no longer see one another! I think of Belarus and I see the little girl with her hair still short and her inability to separate herself from Russia – she's always been so fond of him; it's adorable."

"I suppose that's one word for it, aru," China muttered.

"Shut up," France hissed.

"And then I also think of little Russia and the day I gave that scarf to him," she sighed. "He loves it so much that I don't remember a time when he didn't wear it. He had just a cute little face whenever he'd run up to me and cry and tell me he was being bullied, and although my advice could never work out for him, he pulled through completely unscathed!"

"Physically unscathed rather than mentally unscathed?" China resumed, and then there was faint pained noise and the sound of someone, presumably France, digging their elbow into someone else's, likely to be China's, ribs.

"I just miss them," Ukraine finished hopelessly. "I missed them back then and I miss them now. I don't know. I don't want to have lost the little siblings I love so much."

"You won't," Italy said soothingly. "We've all got at least one person out there who are concerned for us. China has South Korea, Germany has Prussia, Lithuania has Poland, Estonia has America, Latvia has Sealand, Ukraine has her siblings, France has England and I have Romano!"

Germany was sure there were some names in there that had less concern for them, but he chose not to say anything in order to spare Italy's feelings.

Footsteps filled the room and Germany turned his head towards them.

"Who's that?" he demanded.

For some reason, the blindfold was suddenly lifted from Germany's eyes and he was face to face with Latvia.

"Latvia?" he looked surprised. "How did you escape? This is excellent. Unbind my hands and we can get everyone out of here and find out who is responsible."

"Mr Germany, I wish I could give you a straight answer in response," Latvia answered.

"What do you mean?" he looked quizzical.

"You're all being released," Latvia said, unbinding Germany's hands, and then going around to remove the blindfolds from everyone else's faces, as well as their hand binds. "But there's a little more to it than you think."

"Latvia," Germany frowned. "I don't think I fully understand."

"There is a lot of explaining that needs to be done," Latvia replied anxiously. "But there's also a lot of apologising that will be accompanying it."

"What?"

"You'll understand very soon, Mr Germany."

* * *

**A/N: **_So, it all comes out, huh? Well... I think we'll just have to wait for our explanation in Chapter 18! See you next time everyone!_


	19. Chapter 18

**A/N: **_Hey, guys! Well, it feels like a long time since I've done anything Scaretalia related. It's been a bit of a long week for me! In the life of XO, I watched the film, **'The Man from U.N.C.L.E' **just yesterday. I really enjoyed it, and for all you fangirls out there, I would even suggest watching it for Armie Hammer! No, but seriously, the basis is that a KGB spy from Russia has to work with an American CIA agent. In the terms of Hetalia, that's America and Russia working together, just as the Allies should! It was a really good film - the pacing was just right, and although it was long, there wasn't a boring moment in it!_

_Enjoy Chapter 18, because it's finally here!_

* * *

England moved aside to let Russia pass him down the ladder. He climbed down after him, dazed, and watched Russia hug his sister, who dropped the crowbar and returned his hug, a troubled expression on her face. They were both shaking. England was surprised when Russia turned his head towards him, smiling, but with tears running down his face.

"She's OK!" he exclaimed. "You're OK, Belarus! You haven't been shot!"

She shook her head in reply, fighting back her own tears, but constantly swallowing and sniffing in order to suppress them. England glanced down at America, lying on the floor and then back at the two siblings. He noticed someone walking towards them from down the corridor.

England narrowed his eyes. "Latvia?"

The boy shifted awkwardly from foot to foot as Belarus and Russia turned their attention to him.

"Latvia?" Russia looked surprised. "Where have you been?"

"I've been around, Mr Russia," he still looked very uncomfortable.

"Is something the matter?" England asked. "Did you encounter the attacker?"

Latvia sighed. "I have some explaining to do."

"Explaining?" Russia repeated cautiously, wiping his face hurriedly with his scarf in an attempt to hide all emotion.

"First of all, I want you three to know that I'm in on it," Latvia fretted. "I've known about the attacks as well as all the others."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait…." Russia murmured quickly, his face darkening. "You?"

Latvia shook with fear. "Yes, and I really can explain to you what happened. You just have to listen, Mr Russia!"

"I'm listening, da?" he replied coolly.

"It all started with that Italy guy, as we all know," Latvia said with uncertainty. "Well, he went to the bathroom, and I happened to be passing by at the time when I met with my friend, the one who thought of this in the first place. Yes, I just want to clarify that this was never my idea, OK, Mr Russia?"

Russia nodded, what looked like an understanding smile spreading across his face. That only seemed to terrify Latvia all the more.

"He said we should jump Mr Italy as soon as he left the bathroom," Latvia winced. "We did so, because it was Hallowe'en, and he fainted. My friend became wary, and didn't want to be scolded for revealing a collapsed Italy, so said we needed to hide him. At first, I protested, but then I relented, because I'm weak, and I said we should bring him to the storage room beneath the basement, because there was no chance of anyone finding him there. We looked after him and made sure he had water, and my friend even provided him company when he needed it.

"I don't know why we kept him at all!" Latvia panicked. "We should've just let him go, but then my friend said this was the perfect opportunity to execute the plan he'd had in mind. It's nothing sinister, I swear! Just a Hallowe'en prank! Anyway, he went off up through the storage way, whereas I managed to squeeze myself into the dumbwaiter and lever myself all the way to the top. The next time I brought Mr Italy water, Lithuania was there. My friend said it was all going to plan, but I had to wonder exactly what would be the outcome of this…

"I continued to act normal, or at least pretend to do so," Latvia frowned. "But my friend wanted to mess with your minds some more. He said if we left out particular people, then it would be nice to see them work together to find out what was happening. He followed Mr England and Mr America upstairs and somehow framed Miss Belarus for taking Mr France. Next thing I knew, we suddenly had three victims in the storage room, and that was when I began to feel uneasy.

"However, that was also when my own crimes began to weight against me," Latvia swallowed. "So far, I had been a distant accomplice, only really contributing to Mr Italy's capture. However, he came to me as I was in the room after Estonia had gone to sleep. He fretted Estonia was on to him, and that he may have heard him go into the library to hide. However, he was positive that he hadn't been seen, and wanted me to split up Mr Germany and Mr China. That was easy, because Mr Germany wanted to go to the toilet. Miss Ukraine left at some point, and I suppose that's the time when my friend got Mr China.

"For a moment, I thought he had taken both Mr China _and _Miss Ukraine, but I was tied down because Mr Germany didn't want me out of his sight for fear that I would be attacked," Latvia looked guilty. "He insisted we stick together. The question is, how did little Latvia take down Mr Germany? I-I… feel really bad, because he was so nice to me, but I actually found one of Mr Russia's faucet things and used that. We'd already gone so far and I felt there was nothing else I could do. The more Mr Germany looked, the closer he would be to discovering the truth about _me_. I was scared and took the necessary action.

"Well, by then, I was technically a criminal, so I guess I stopped caring so much," he admitted, looking down at the floor, clearly ashamed. "I took Mr Germany down to the storage room, and my friend was a little impressed, since he thought Mr Germany would be the hardest to take down. I feel like such a scumbag, but it's all about earning trust… Estonia wasn't too hard to take. He was asleep by the time we arrived at his room, and my friend decided to shove a bag over his head and bring him down the basement way, since he would never fit down the dumbwaiter. We gagged him. I'm sure he was really distressed, but the two of us were too afraid to stop what we had put in motion. Technically, the plan was still well functioning.

"Miss Ukraine was probably the easiest to take along," Latvia bit his lip. "Please don't look at me like that, Mr Russia – we didn't harm her. We actually just put some balaclavas on and asked her to come with us in our best American accents and she did. We also told her to be quiet, and I guess she was too afraid to not be. Then there were you four. My friend was sure that Mr England and Mr America would never split up, so he wanted to actually target Mr Russia next. I plain out refused. Admittedly, Ukraine had put me off. Although she wasn't harmed, she was very distressed. That's why I started to pretend I was tied up alongside them when they were able to speak. All I needed to do was sit with them and speak, and they believed me... Also, I would never attack Mr Russia if I wanted to continue living, possibly because he would break my spine and tear out my neck bone- but only because he doesn't want me to turn into a thug living on the streets."

He gave a nervous laugh and Russia nodded, still smiling. England thought the smile was a little less understanding opposed to creepy and psychopathic, but his time working with Russia made him strangely inclined to see the better in his team.

"Miss Belarus was also out of the question," Latvia said. "I told him I wanted out, that we should end this, let everyone go, and just tell them all what was happening. It was a prank that spiralled way out of control. He went up, whereas I stayed down. I was too afraid to go up. I don't know what happened up there, but when he returned he was freaking out. He said I was right and that this needed to end. When we both climbed up through the dumbwaiter, we heard gunshots, and that's when I knew this had to end.

"I was too scared to face the guy with the gun, until now," Latvia looked unsure. "We didn't think Mr America would crack, but he did and he really did crack. My friend was way too scared, but I knew that if I didn't come soon, the madness would continue. It was like a wild goose chase. I was trying to find you two, Mr Russia and Mr England, because you two would be rational rather than trying to shoot me, especially you, Mr England. Not that you're not _rational_, Mr Russia. The English are just particularly rational, as in, rationality is written into their genes; you get what I'm saying? It's obviously _not_ because I'm plying you lack rationality?"

Russia nodded, although his movements seemed a little forced.

"Anyway, it was hard, because you two were constantly moving around the house and a lot of the time I just couldn't track either of you," he was trembling at this point. "I know I came too late, but the gunshots alerted me to your presence, and when I got here, Mr America was knocked out and you three were actually OK, which is really good, because I didn't want to be the cause of murder. I'm really very sorry-"

"Why don't you come give Mr Russia a hug and he'll tell you it'll be _all fine_?" Russia started approaching the boy, who shook his head and took a step back.

"Wait!" England frowned. "Who is this friend of yours?"

"I think I can answer that question," someone replied, stepping out from around the corner. "I've just finished explaining to everyone what happened to them, and I thought it was about time I showed myself."

"_Sealand_?" England stared in horror.

"I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt," Sealand stared at the ground, tears in his eyes. "I actually just wanted to scare you, _jerk _England, because we're brothers and everything, but also because it's Hallowe'en. I thought if I executed a really elaborate and somewhat clever plan, then all the countries would _have _to acknowledge me as a nation…"

"So you _took people hostage_?" England's brows furrowed.

"Well, that wasn't actually the plan," Sealand frowned. "The plan was to scare Italy, and actually have him collaborate with us. That was the idea – give everyone a scare, and then have them work with us. However, he fainted and I panicked, so Latvia suggested a place where we could bring him. Once we got down there, I thought it would be fun to bring everyone there, and they'd all see each other and not worry. However, when Italy came to, he tried to run from us in some kind of blind panic, so we had to bind him up and everything."

Sealand glanced up at them all and sniffed. "I really thought it would be quite fun, and I figured that, in a way, Russia was Latvia's version of a big brother. The idea was to leave you two for last, and then surprise you, and it would all be fun and games. I could never have pulled this through without Latvia, really. He was the one who suggested to Russia that he should throw a Hallowe'en party, especially after I told him my idea."

"Oh, yes, I remember you were talking to me when I was planning it," Russia's smile became noticeably forced. "I didn't realise you were a manipulator, Latvia."

Latvia's eyes widened and he sent Sealand a slight glare. England wondered how much more information Latvia had twisted, but from the threatening way Russia was standing, England decided not to press for that information. His target was Sealand.

"I never would have guessed America would use a gun against you guys," Sealand looked sad. "But I guess he watches too many horror films and there's sometimes someone who goes mad just to add to the psychological horror, so that could be where he got that from."

"Oh, I thought he just had a fever," Russia looked down at America with mild disgust. "Maybe he didn't after all…"

"But I don't understand," England said. "How did you even get here? Russia's house is one of the most well defended I know, and you definitely weren't on my plane."

"Oh, well, that was quite easy, considering the circumstances," Sealand looked surprised. "I don't want to offend Russia in any way, but-"

"Allow me to explain," another person wandered out. "It was a three man team, England. I brought him on my plane, because I liked his plan."

"You," England gaped. "_You're _behind this?"

"I will tell you everything," France answered as he approached.

* * *

**A/N: **_ Ohonhonhonhonhon! I'm afraid that's where I'm leaving off! What is the meaning of this? A three man team between Latvia, Sealand and France? What is going on? Find out in the next chapter where France spills the beans... Could there... be anyone else involved? Until next time!_


	20. Chapter 19

**A/N: **_I'm back and it's with the next chapter of Scaretalia! I couldn't help but feel flattered that I've been called M. Night Shyamalan; I watched the Sixth Sense and absolutely adored it. That plot twist though..._

_Thank you for sticking with Scaretalia up to this point. Dare I say it but... this is actually the penultimate chapter! I know! I've called it! Scaretalia is near it's end!_

_I hope you enjoy this penultimate chapter!_

* * *

"It all started out when Sealand came to me looking for an efficient way to get you and the others to notice him," France explained. "Big Brother told him it was Hallowe'en soon, and that he could use that as an excuse. The next day, he came with this plan of his, and I was delighted. Anything to make England uncomfortable, I thought at the time and it was also a way to find amusement from this whole thing. I told him to call Latvia and set this plan in Russia's house, because I knew it would be more interesting if the host was someone nobody really liked or trusted…"

Russia glowered at him and he shrugged.

"Well, if you're going to act the way you do, don't be so surprised," France warned. "No matter; Latvia followed Sealand's instructions as he usually does. Once that was put into motion, it was all about getting you to go. Sealand was in my plane during the meeting we had at your house, England. I knew that you and America would be anxious about this whole event, and that you'd have some kind of meeting. If I acted openly against it, I didn't look suspicious, but I also wanted you to generally agree to go. That's where Italy came in. He would naturally just accept the party invitation, and out of pity, you'd all go along with him. I even suggested it, and seeing as I was on a roll, it worked out fine.

"Getting Sealand into Russia's house was the hardest part," France admitted. "Smuggling a twelve year boy wasn't as easy as he seemed to believe, but that's where Latvia came in. I flew my plane off in the distance, even though I was sure I could land with you guys. That gave Sealand and me enough time to prepare. I acted lost, with Sealand watching me from the shadows. Lithuania came to collect me, and that was how Sealand identified where the house was. As we all know, the Baltics are usually on door duty. When the time was right, Latvia let his friend in the house and told him to go hide.

"When Italy disappeared, I knew the plan had been set into motion," France nodded. "I had told them to stick together during the attacks, which they seemed to do fine, because Sealand already told me how they managed to get Lithuania."

Russia glanced at Latvia once more, who shifted awkwardly from foot to foot and refused to meet his gaze. England wondered if this was where Latvia's lies were revealed.

"When we split up, that was fantastic," France gleamed. "I knew that two young boys would never be able to take down older, more powerful nations. When I was with you, England, as well as America, I noticed them tailing us, but only because I was looking for them. I started purposely going ahead and indicated I wanted to be taken. It was better if I was in the shadows as well. You two stayed in Belarus's room, whereas I went into Ukraine's, and I _pretended_ to be mauled to death, knowing full well that you'd both be too terrified to leave the room. That gave all three of us a chance to get away.

"By then, I suppose that's when we started to split up," France said. "Latvia ended up serving Ukraine for a while, I had to pretend I was tied up in the room, even though I was the only one notblindfolded, and Sealand was the only one capable of moving around freely. I told him to target China or Japan, because they were the smallest in build and therefore easiest to take. Sealand returned with China gagged and blindfolded, much to my delight.

"I'll admit, I was very surprised when Latvia dragged Germany into the little room," France raised both eyebrows. "It turns out that China was incapable of using any martial arts techniques because Latvia had spiked their tea. I was surprised a first, but it turns out he'd found some sleeping tablets in the kitchen medicine cabinet and had given them a quarter tablet each. He'd mashed it into powder and sprinkled it in the bottom. That meant Ukraine wasn't effected, whereas China and Germany were. Drowsy and not nearly as fast as he could've been, I don't doubt Latvia made Germany an easy take."

All eyes were on Latvia, including Sealand.

"You _drugged_ them?" Sealand gawked.

"I-I-I… How else was I…" Latvia swallowed, unable to defend himself.

France shrugged, choosing to ignore the conflict. "He only told me because he worried they'd be overdosed. I said no. They'd be fine, because the tablets he used were only for mild sleeping issues. Germany and China wouldn't even notice themselves getting slower and more relaxed. I'm sure the boys told you about how they got Estonia and Ukraine. My major role was to sit with the hostages and pretend to be blindfolded. I spoke, and they couldn't see that I wasn't bound up like they were. Latvia also did that with Germany, to pretend. It was all very clever, really.

"I intended to get Belarus next," France said. "I'm sorry, but I felt it would be better to get the girls aside from what was happening, and Ukraine would probably feel better to have her sister with her. I'm not _immoral_. That's when the boys told me America had gone on a rampage. I told them we needed to instantly go up, but neither was enthusiastic and I don't blame them for that. I tried to go, but Sealand begged me not to. I insisted, and Latvia said the time wasn't right, that I would get shot. However, I needed to tell America the truth and get him to calm down.

"The boys had different ideas," France admitted. "They left, and Latvia locked the door. I was stuck in, but I was more concerned for them, as they were heading towards the gunfire. Everything seemed to sort itself out, though, and I think they were probably right. At the sight of America with a gun, I would've turned tail and fled…"

"But _why_ France?" England demanded. "Why would you do this in the first place and why would you let it go so far?"

France thought for a moment. "I suppose I wanted to scare you, England. You were my main target, and since you react so badly to these things, it would be hilarious to have you in a situation like that with Russia and America, who hate one another. As to why I'd go so far? Because everyone who was taken to that room is a grown, mature adult. Nobody was harmed until America started shooting bullets. Did you know some people can pay to be kidnapped just for the thrill of it? They take you unexpectedly and without telling you how or when. This was nothing compared to something like that! However, America was not in on the plans."

"OK, so you chose my house because you knew people would accuse me?" Russia asked flatly. "You smuggled a child across the Russian border just to have a laugh at England? You manipulated two children only for the purpose of this playing out? And you're the one saying _I'm_ the bad one?"

France laughed nervously. "I understand this hasn't been taken as well as I'd have liked, but surely it can become something we can all put behind us?"

"What about Japan?" England asked. "Was he involved? Because he hasn't been mentioned."

"Oh, true," Russia frowned. "All three of you didn't mention Japan once."

"Oh sugar!" Sealand's eyes widened. "I forgot I locked him in the meat hangar!"

"You what?" Latvia looked at him. "That place is freezing because it's close to the outside and used to preserve meat!"

"I remember sneaking after him in that little passage and just pushing him," Sealand panicked. "I was going to return there, but I forgot about him entirely."

"Well, we need to get him out!" France looked worried. "What if he froze to death?"

"I don't want to be a murderer," Sealand burst into tears.

"Well, this was a hoot and a half," England rolled his eyes. "Seeing as your terrible plan has failed miserably, frog, how about Latvia goes to retrieve Japan, and the rest of us unite with the others? Where are they?"

"The lounge Ukraine watches TV in," France replied sullenly.

As a group, they all travelled. Together, England and France dragged America along. Belarus helped Russia walk and Sealand and Latvia walked at the front with their heads bowed. Sealand was trying not to cry anymore and Latvia had a fearful expression in his eyes. England was just glad this was over, yet he remained unwilling to look France in the eye.

When they passed the kitchen corridor, Latvia branched off to rescue Japan, and they all entered the lounge where everyone was gathered. All heads turned, their expressions icy and unfriendly. Sealand, unable to take it, started sobbing again.

"Oh, this is _sad_," Ukraine frowned. "He's only a little boy and once things were out of control, he couldn't handle them!"

She pulled Sealand into her arms, bubbling over herself with tears. England frowned and sidestepped them, where he and France laid America across the couch.

"What happened to you guys?" China asked, looking at England, who was still geared up; America, who was completely out of it; and Russia, who looked like he'd walked in the middle of a gun war.

"We've been through a lot tonight," England explained, and Russia finally collapsed as if that was answer enough.

"He's dead!" Sealand cried. "This is all my fault! I'm a-"

"He's not dead!" Belarus growled, checking his pulse. "My poor brother has just been through too much."

"Mr Russia!" Lithuania crouched beside him. "How did this happen to him?"

"America's little brain couldn't handle the situation and he started shooting at us," England folded his arms. "You know what I want? A bloody apology. I can't believe the three of you took things as far as you did."

Sealand grabbed his trouser leg. "I'm so sorry, jerk England. It'll _never _happen again. I promise; I swear!"

England awkwardly patted him and pushed him gently away. "Look, I understand you didn't intend this to happen, but I honestly think you should have considered the consequences of taking Italy in the first place. You've both endangered and frightened a lot of people tonight."

He glared at France and waited.

After a moment, France relented and sighed. "OK, I'm very sorry as to what has happened."

"I should think so," Germany folded his arms. "Now where is Latvia? I want an explanation."

"I'm here, Mr Germany," Latvia said, guiding a shuddering Japan into the room.

His skin was pale from the cold, and Latvia had provided him with a blanket. He sat him on the couch wedged in between Italy and Germany where he continued to shiver but said nothing at all.

"Considering it's already been said, I drugged your tea and attacked you from behind," Latvia winced. "I'm so sorry."

"I think we'll need to have some kind of conference for this," Germany sighed. "I understand that this was all meant to be light hearted, but you all took things way too far. I'm thinking perhaps a community service type punishment opposed to payment, because this was all an accidental situation."

"Wow, thank you for being so understanding, Mr Germany," Latvia looked surprised.

"I was hoping for payment," China scowled. "But I'll just assume straight off the bat that no one else will be agreeing with me."

A silence followed that confirmed his theory and he scowled.

"How about we organise everything tomorrow?" Estonia suggested. "Not many people are exactly fit to discuss international business and we've all missed out on valuable sleep."

There was general murmured consensus. Ukraine organised a room for everyone, and England was just relieved to put his head down on a pillow. He closed his eyes, and finally drifted off into the world of sleep.

* * *

**A/N: **_Well, there we have it. The penultimate chapter is finished and there's only one more to go! Wow, it's been long... Thank you very much for reading Scaretalia so far, and I'll have the next chapter for you by next week. Don't forget to review, either! I absolutely love hearing from those who have read Scaretalia!_


	21. Epilogue

**A/N: **_Hello, everyone! This is it! This is the final chapter of Scaretalia. It's been an incredible ride (for me, and I hope for all of you). I've had so many wonderful reviews and so much support from everyone - it's just been wonderful! I really enjoyed writing this FanFic, but I also loved that it was enjoyed not just by me, but also from around the world (I know it sounds super creepy, but this website has a Traffic Graph, and I stumbled upon it), so from America to Aruba to Iceland to Japan - thank you **so much** for sticking with me whilst I was writing Scaretalia, and I hope you thoroughly enjoy this last and final chapter!_

_Thank you! _

* * *

England woke up at a record ten thirty that morning. He was safe and sound. Light streamed in through the window. The atmosphere of Russia's house had changed from creepy horror film setting to Christmas movie setting, with the snow falling delicately outside. He rolled out of bed and made himself presentable for the outside world. He walked out of the room and stood in the hallway, where he heard voices further down the hallway. He walked along and saw it was Russia's room.

They had a lot of discussing to do, but a doctor had arrived late that night to look at Russia's wounds. England hadn't been awake to see that, but he'd been told beforehand by Germany that that's what had been planned. The voices sounded like America and Russia.

He brought a hand up to the door and knocked gently.

"Hello?" Russia called.

England pushed open the door and walked a little inside. Russia was still in bed, and America sat beside him on a chair he'd pulled up beside the bed.

"Hey," America smiled and England nodded.

He glanced around the room and found another chair which he took and pulled beside America's. Sitting down, the three of them contemplated a moment.

"Russia was just telling me what I'd been like," America awkwardly laughed. "He said he thought I had a fever."

"You did look like a madman," England replied.

"If I got fevers that easily I'd be doomed," America shrugged. "Healthcare isn't free…"

"What was the verdict?" England asked Russia.

"I was passing in out and of consciousness whilst they were diagnosing me," Russia shrugged. "But I did catch that my arm was broken, I'd lost a lot of blood from the knife wound, when we pulled the bullet out I lost even more blood, I also fractured my hip apparently when I jumped from the building, two ribs were broken when you landed on me with the ladder and the nerves in my little finger have been temporarily severed from the skimming gunshot of America's, but because I'm a country I'll heal and be fine."

England glanced at America, who had a bandage round his head.

"Mildly concussed, but I wanted to see if this dude had made it," he laughed. "I can't believe it was Sealand this whole time… And I was telling you to go easy on the little guy…"

"It was France pulling the strings," England said.

"I can assure you that Latvia won't be doing anything for a while," Russia chuckled.

"But, hey, I just wanted to clarify that there's no beef between us?" America looked at him.

"Oh, there is," Russia nodded seriously. "I might currently be one step down from a full body cast, but let's both of us remember that you were the one accusing me of this from the beginning to the end, as well as smuggling a gun into my house, only to then use it against me. Ought I also to remind you that you weren't psychotic when you brought the gun into my house?"

America's face fell and he grimaced. "Right."

The day progressed slowly at first, but then meetings began, held in Russia's room, because he didn't want to be left out. The only person unable to attend was Japan, and that because, according to China, he was suffering moderate hypothermia from the low temperatures of the meat hangar. France, Sealand and Latvia were present, and the next three days were spent organising what was to happen to the offenders.

Sealand willingly took responsibility, and was forced into service towards the countries to make them more accepting. He would take two weeks with each of his victims as repayment. That gave him a total of twenty weeks service. He was prohibited from organising contact with Latvia for the next month or so.

Latvia's punishment was something Russia insisted on exacting, and although he wouldn't explain what he intended to do, he was insistent and didn't want Latvia straying far from home anyway. He said something along the lines: "Latvia understands his errors, but at least the magical stick can settle our dispute!" He was put on a two month restraining order from both Germany and China and was also prohibited from handling medicine and drugs. Like Sealand, he would face a month of not speaking with the former.

France? France would be at the will and mercy of all other nations he had offended for thirty weeks. He would also be the one paying Russia's medical bill due to the fact that it was his idea to orchestrate this in Russia's house. He was placed on a restricted restraining order from Sealand and Latvia for the next two months.

Lithuania would be spending the next few months with Russia, attending to him and making sure he was alright. He also found it very difficult to be near Latvia, and found friendly conversation wasn't the first thing on his mind whenever the two happened to chance upon one another. Although he knew it was unfair to seemingly accuse Latvia of everything, he was still cold about the thought of Latvia being the one attack him and drag him into the storage room, a place which he chose to avoid.

Estonia took it a little more responsibly. Whilst his attitude towards Latvia was not what one could call friendly, he did the sensible thing and put the past aside, still on speaking terms. He did, however, catch up on all his missed and most beloved sleep (perhaps taking advantage since Russia wasn't in the position to say or do anything against it).

Ukraine easily relaxed once the danger was gone, and instantly forgave Latvia despite everything he did. On the fourth day of his punishment, she ended up comforting a terrified Latvia who felt the need to watch his back, providing him with a fresh batch of tarts she'd made.

Belarus was much less forgiving, and although she sought out Latvia, he did his best to avoid her as much as possible, especially after he saw what she did to America with the crowbar. The only good thing that came out of this was that Russia, who was incapable of being able to move about the house, was subject to Belarus's company. She was very happy to tell him that Latvia would be constructing her a new vase _and _a new photo frame.

Italy returned home to a very surprised Romano, who half listened to his story, but didn't care that much. Italy took it as a low blow, and chose to stay with Germany for the next three weeks or so, suddenly unable to take anything from his brother due to the "stress and fear of being held in the basement of a sociopath's servant and a bad cook's little brother – they tried to feed me English food! It was torture!"

Germany accepted Italy staying with him, and had better company from Austria, who enjoyed bossing Sealand around at his every bidding when the boy was there. It made Germany wonder whether Austria was abusing his position within the household, but there was little he could do, as he had been the one who helped construct the terms Sealand had to follow. Fortunately for Germany, the tea had no impact on his health, and the blow to his head had not been enough to have caused considerable or worrisome damage.

The final member of the Axis Powers was not so lucky. Japan almost reached a severe stage of hypothermia, to the point where he stopped feeling the cold and became delirious. As a result, China deemed him unhealthy to travel and asked Russia to allow them to stay until Japan seemed well enough to return home. Russia allowed that, and the poor Japan spent his days bedridden with China as his only company. However, when he did heal, he was grateful to both, and just as grateful to return home.

China was glad to spend some quality time with Japan, even though most of his contributions to conversation were delirious. On the other hand, he didn't have to return home, either, and have South Korea pester him about what happened. He didn't suffer from the sleeping tablets either, but made sure to strictly avoid Latvia during his prolonged stay at Russia's house. Upon returning home, he was bombarded with questions, but his answer was: "It was so traumatic I can't speak of it."

America was a little bit luckier than Japan. Although he was suffering mild concussion and couldn't drive his own plane, the fact he was walking around indicated he could travel. There was also the fact that he didn't want to stay in Russia's house any longer, especially as the other was still bitter about him having brought a gun into his house. As a result, Canada arrived with some of his air force, where he gave America a lift back home, as well as brought America's plane back. He was glad to have been included, albeit briefly, and although he was barely noticed when he came for America, it was difficult for America to not acknowledge his presence when they were on their way home. America sent a letter of apology to Russia, as well as a new faucet pipe.

Russia received the said letter and burnt it after reading it, smiling and watching the fire as he did so. However, he treasured his beloved faucet and had Latvia smelt the new one down to repair the old one, because he believed it was perfectly fine to be sentimental over a piece of plumbing. Despite his injuries, Russia recovered extremely quickly. "I'm Russian" and "It was the vodka I have as a medical remedy three times a day" were his excuses for the extreme health. Once he was up again, he made sure to distance himself a lot from Belarus. Although he attempted to acquire the photo album, she banned him from entering her room for a period of time, and she took it with her when she returned to her own home. Although that night had seen him enter there the most ever, Russia got Latvia to rebuild his entire library as well as organise general repairs all over the house. Once fully recovered, he spent the next few days comfort knitting and wondering whether his friendship with England was permanent or temporary.

England spoke little to Sealand as usual, intending to send the message that his younger brother was still not considered a nation. He decided to enter a rock climbing course, having mildly enjoyed his escapade along the side of Russia's house, but memories of falling returned to him during the first week and he refused to continue that. To comfort himself, he baked a huge plate of scones and got France to eat them with him, much to the horror of France. It was safe to say that, when Sealand was at his service, England was not shy to get his brother to do whatever he wanted. It was one day when he realised that Russia might expect to receive a letter as they were "friends". However, England was in the mood to cut that "friendship", especially when he dwelled on what would've happened if Latvia had confessed without him being present. Luckily, Russia didn't seem to make an effort either, and England put that down to being forgetful, and was very grateful for it. He also decided he would never celebrate Hallowe'en again. Until next Hallowe'en arrived, and his desire to frighten America overpowered that decision...

* * *

_The nations were assembled in their meeting hall, seated accordingly as usual. The eight had just spent a long week discussing dull issues that nobody particularly cared about, but felt obliged to talk about anyway. The whole Hallowe'en escapade was over, and everyone could relax at last. England felt particularly relaxed at this point; tea therapy had done its job as usual. _

_Germany stacked his papers. "I think we're just about... Oh, hang on, there's one more thing to discuss."_

_He noted how the shoulders of each nation in the room visibly drooped - and chose to ignore it. He was determined to fulfil his duty as a nation, even if it had been a long, and stressful week of bickering and not getting anywhere. _

_"What's it about, Germany?" Italy yawned, ready for a siesta._

_"It says... 'thank you' on the front?" Germany's brow furrowed, and he began to open the envelope._

_"Wait!" America leapt to his feet. "Has it been checked for explosives?"_

_"If it's reached this place, then obviously," England glowered. "Sit back down and let Germany read whatever it is."_

_America dropped back down into his seat without another word. All eyes were on Germany, for once, and the entire hall was silent, for once. Germany was glad they were all paying attention, even if it was merely because the envelope was unusual. Carefully, he tore it open and pulled out a letter._

_"OK," Germany pondered. "Here we go:_

_"I would just like to say a massive thank you to those who have been so kind to review Scaretalia! As it's the end of the road here, this is also a goodbye to Scaretalia! Wow, it's actually over! _

_"I'll start with **Abc**, a guest who was technically, the first person to review Scaretalia (apart from my friend in real life who made a comment to me!) and has consistently reviewed ever since! Thank you so much for the dedication, as well as the consistent enjoyment throughout. Your reviews have been extremely appreciated!_

_"Next up is **MindfulThoughtlessness**, who was rather caught off by France's little trick at the end there!"_

_A smug expression appeared in France's eyes, but glares from the other nations replaced that quickly with shame._

_"Thank you very much for you continual support!" Germany continued reading. "I may not be M. Night Shyamalan, but maybe one day!_

_"I would also like to say a big thank you to **Blue Denim 7**, who has been extremely kind and gave me such wonderful reviews! Thank you very much for jumping on board the Scaretalia train and sticking through with it until the end!_

_"**MeddlinMegs** has also been a wonderful reviewer! I was very glad to see how much you cared for Japan when he was not with the others in the basement in your review to Chapter 11 (or 12, as the website puts it)."_

_"Oh," Japan blinked. "Thank you very much. I'm glad someone was concerned about me..."_

_"I'm sorry," France wailed. "It won't happen again."_

_"I should think not, frog, or you'd have some reparations to answer to," England snickered._

_"Let me finish!" Germany demanded, and was met with silence once more. "Danke. Thank you very much for all your wonderful reviews! It was all extremely appreciated! A quick thanks to **TotalFangirl985782**, who took great amusement at the expense of both Russia and England!"_

_Germany watched as Russia offered an awkward smile to the other nation, who pretended not to notice him. He didn't know what was meant by the cryptic letter, but something must've happened whilst he was locked away in the basement..._

_"And finally, a massive thanks go towards **WhiteWolf100101**," Germany said._

_"One hundred one oh one?" America narrowed his eyes. "I don't know about you guys, but those numbers have _got_ to be a clue for something. I told you this letter was suspicious..."_

_"It's a name, you wanker," England snapped._

_"Oh, right, well..." America sank down in his seat and waved a hand. "Do continue."_

_"Right," Germany said with a clenched jaw. "I loved reading every one of your reviews! I even went back to compare the first ones, where you noted your own country wanted to make you face palm. I hope he still makes you face palm right now! Sometimes when reading your reviews, you put me to shame, because you thought more about what I did, than what I was thinking when I actually wrote the chapters myself! You analysed things I didn't think about, and it was amazingly funny! Thank you so much for the continual support._

_"But not only that, thank you to everyone who has read Scaretalia. Everyone who has clicked on this has been extremely wonderful, because I found that other people liking something I'd written was a wonderful feeling. Thank you so much! I appreciate all the support from those who have reviewed, and those who have simply read Scaretalia! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"_

_"Three thanks," England muttered. "Hardly proper grammar."_

_"Well, that was weird," Germany chucked the envelope and letter down on the table. "And a waste of our time. I'll have to resend it, because I think someone got the wrong address... I hereby call this meeting dismissed."_

_One by one, the grateful nations mumbled their relieved thanks and left the room._

* * *

After a long period of time since the night of Hallowe'en, Latvia found himself in the kitchen, relieved that the nightmare was over. Lithuania and Estonia had gone out to deal with cars (one of the snow mobiles had frozen over), Ukraine and Belarus were long gone by now and Russia said he was out doing something after a tiring week meeting with the other nations to discuss global business.

"Hey Latvia."

He turned and saw Russia standing in the doorway.

"O-oh," he froze. "H-hello M-Mr Russia. I-I thought you'd gone out."

"That's what I told you and the other two," he smiled. "I wanted it to be just us today, so we could spend some _quality _time together. Do you remember that Hallowe'en night all that time ago?"

"Y-yes?" Latvia felt himself shaking, for he couldn't quite comprehend why Russia was bringing that up again. It had been a long time, and not particularly a night either of them would've wanted to remember.

"I think it's about time we spoke about what happened," Russia beamed, taking out the new faucet pipe Latvia had constructed for him a while back. "Let's settle the argument. _Once and for all_."

Latvia decided that was his cue to start running or die slowly.

~ The End ~

* * *

**A/N: **_And that's it everyone! Thank you for reading Scaretalia!_


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